Darkness Rising

by C. Gockel

  Alaric frowned. The Kanakah Cloud was only two months from Luddeccean space at light speed. And then there was Luddeccea’s own asteroid belt and the many moons around the outer gas giants.

  “Oh…” said Volka, her lips forming a small “o” as though her own perceptiveness had startled her. Alaric’s fingers curled with the desire to pull her into his lap and tell her he’d keep her safe. He stared into the remains of his coffee. He hadn’t done that very well, though, had he? In the end, she’d had to save herself.

  “You’ve told Noa all that has happened?” the archbishop asked.

  Sinclair nodded. “She is aboard the Arkhipov and is prepared to allow you to dock—”

  The archbishop and Alaric both stiffened. Docking the Merkabah in the Arkhipov might mean never leaving the Arkhipov.

  “—or you could meet in a neutral location. We could send a shuttle to your airlock and conduct negotiations on Time Gate 1,” Sinclair finished.

  “That would be the preferred option,” said Sato.

  Sinclair nodded. “She’s ready for us.”

  “You’ve told her our new enemy’s favorite form appears to be similar to blue-green algae?” the archbishop asked.

  Wincing, Sinclair nodded.

  The archbishop tapped a finger on the table and said softly, as though to himself, “She always told me blue-green algae was evil.”

  Sinclair put his face in his hands and groaned. “In over a century of our marriage, she has not ceased believing it is evil.”

  Alaric’s mind spun with the revelation of “over a century of marriage.” Was their marriage a happy one? Did one need to be a machine to have peaceful marital relations? He glanced at Volka and then away. They might have a peaceful personal relationship, but they’d never have peace in public.

  “Blue-green algae is asexual,” Sixty said. “So, although I don’t believe in good and evil per se, I’d be inclined to agree with the sentiment.”

  James raised his head and narrowed his eyes at Sixty. “You and I were created by what is, essentially, asexual reproduction.”

  Sipping his milk and sugar, Sixty said, “Our makers took the best part out.”

  Volka’s ears flicked. “The admiral invokes blue-green algae like a curse—” Her gaze met Alaric’s. “I thought it was a common slur when I first arrived in the Republic.”

  Carl’s necklace crackled. “So did my once-kin Shissh!” Slinking from Sinclair’s shoulders onto the table, he picked up a piece of beef jerky and turned to Alaric. “Shissh is my once-kin from a half-dozen lives ago. She served aboard a ship with Noa for a while.”

  Alaric gave the werfle a stare that said, explain. But it was Sixty who took the hint. “She served as the ship’s cat.”

  Taking a bite of the jerky, Carl continued, “Did Wihhhassh—I mean Solomon—ever tell you that he was once my mother, and once Isssh’s mother, too, in a different litter?”

  Alaric’s brow furrowed.

  Carl waved two paws. “It was nine centuries and five centuries ago, respectively, when Solomon was female, of course.”

  “Solomon has never been in the habit of talking to me,” Alaric said, trying to play it safe.

  Carl’s eyes narrowed. He took a vigorous bite of the jerky and hissed. “It seems wrong that a mother wouldn’t talk about his own sons.”

  “Um, Carl…” Volka started to say.

  Isssh chattered, and Carl said, “You said it, Isssh.” Turning to Alaric, Carl said, “Solomon has been talking about you nonstop since you were a boy.” Rising to his hindmost paw pairs, Carl addressed everyone at the table as though he were a professor leading a lecture. “Isssh believes that humans will reach true oneness with the wave through religion.”

  Isssh squeaked and hissed.

  “I’m not debating you at the moment,” Carl said, waving his top paw pairs. “I’m explaining The One’s various hypotheses on the matter.”

  Isssh sniffed.

  Carl’s necklace crackled. “Ahem. I personally believe that humans will reach wave consciousness via technology, but Solomon believes that wave consciousness will come about through the fields you know as mathematics and physics.” He turned his whiskered snout back to Alaric. “You are very talented in those areas. We heard alllllll about it. ‘My pet has beaten all the rich boys at the inter-province mathematics competition. My pet is taking college level physics in high school.’”

  Embarrassed, Alaric found himself studying the bottom of his empty coffee cup. “Ah, I’m sure no one wants to—”

  Isssh chittered.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. Solomon worried about you constantly, too. ‘My pet has grown so tall he bangs his head on the low roof of his parents’ house. His legs are so long he can’t fit on the bed he shares with his brothers. I’m afraid his feet will get frostbite.’”

  Alaric stared at the last dregs of his drink as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. He remembered those winters without heat. “That would explain why he slept on my feet and never let me stretch out,” he joked weakly. “I think we should discuss—”

  Isssh squeaked.

  “Yep,” continued Carl. “We heard all about that. But did you hear about the time Isssh’s tail was stuck in an elevator door? The time I hibernated through spring and almost through summer? No, I bet not.”

  “Errr…” said Alaric.

  “Carl,” said Sixty.

  Waving a paw, Carl declared, “Solomon told us all about your determination to see that he had something to eat even when your family had nothing. For every fresh egg you gave him, he felt compelled to make sure your mother had two rats for stew.”

  Isssh hissed, and Carl grumbled, “Once-mother always made us hunt for ourselves as soon as we could slink out of the nest.”

  Flushing, Alaric barely heard. His family had resorted to rats during the winters, and although Volka would not think worse of him for it, the human and android at the table were another matter. “We should really talk about—”

  Carl waved a paw. “Did Solomon tell you about how Isssh was the first of our kind to inhabit a gixelloopalop?” Isssh squeaked with what sounded like indignation.

  Carl ranted, “Or how I almost tenpawdedly destroyed Time Gate 8? No. And recently, when you were in prison—”

  “In prison?” Volka whispered.

  “It was nothing,” Alaric ground out, not able to raise his eyes.

  Carl kept going. “It was on Abraham’s trumped-up charges. But when Solomon tried to give Alaric the only rat not infected with plague when Alaric was starving, Alaric insisted he eat it…unlike some people, who might be weere, who catch rats on an asteroid I know of and don’t always share them even though they are by no means starving.”

  “Let’s change the topic,” suggested Alaric.

  “To how you should have been allowed into the priesthood?” Carl asked, blinking his eyes innocently.

  “No,” said Alaric. “To—”

  Turning to the androids at the table, Carl said, “The priesthood on Luddeccea is the equivalent of medieval monks when it comes to science and culture, only Luddeccean priests are allowed to marry, which is far more sensible, if you ask me.”

  The archbishop cleared his throat. “Captain Darmadi would be an excellent addition to our ranks.”

  Alaric’s cup slipped from his fingers and he looked up, suddenly feeling dizzy.

  The archbishop continued, “But I hope that for now, he will remain in the Fleet. I don’t know if we would have survived if it had been anyone else in charge.”

  The dizziness passed. Alaric felt heavy and couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “For God and Luddeccea,” he said.

  Sinclair cleared his throat. “It was well done.”

  Alaric wanted more than anything to talk about something else.

  “Would you like some more coffee?” Sixty asked.

  “Please,” Alaric said, wracking his brain for a change of subject and grabbing hold of the first thing that came t
o mind. “There are human-weere couples on Libertas who’ve been denied independent contracts for asteroid mining. If weere are sensitive to the threat we’re facing, and it exists on asteroids that may already be in our system, we should get them out there, and we should make sure they’re prepared to recognize a spore.” He could feel his face flushing as he said the words and had to force himself not to look at Volka. He couldn’t change the past, but he could maybe change the future for other couples who found themselves in their predicament.

  “That would mean acknowledging that such couples exist,” the archbishop said.

  Alaric felt like throwing his fresh cup of coffee across the table. He steepled his fingers instead. “Of course, Your Excellency.”

  “Which doesn’t mean it should not be done,” said the archbishop.

  The comm rang, and Alaric was grateful for the distraction.

  Ran’s voice filled the room. “Sir, we have discovered the Galacticans’ ship.” Cups clicked on the table around Alaric. “It’s in the shadow of the second planet in this system,” he continued.

  “Bringing it up on the holo,” the archbishop said.

  The holoprojector at the center of the table lit up. The ship on the screen looked like the one Sixty and Volka had escaped in, but…“What has happened to her?” Alaric murmured. Her hull was dark gray with veins of a mustard yellow that gripped her like a pentapus.

  “She was infected, I think,” Carl said.

  Alaric looked up at the werfle in alarm.

  Bowing its head, the werfle said, “Not like we would be. She isn’t possessed. She’s dead.”

  Isssh squeaked mournfully.

  Alaric looked to Volka for clarification. “Sundancer is a living thing.” Taking a deep breath, she glared at Carl. “We can’t be sure she’s died!”

  “We can’t feel her anymore,” said Carl. “She’s gone, Volka.”

  Alaric sat back in his chair. There was no way they could tow the ship to Luddeccea. He swallowed, and if it was infected…“She must be destroyed.”

  “What?” Volka growled, leaning forward in her chair, her lip curling.

  “Are there any surviving infected humans in this system? On an escape pod perhaps?” Alaric demanded of the werfles and Volka.

  Volka sat back in her chair. Carl put a paw to his nose. “We don’t know.”

  “If they got hold of her, they could travel anywhere in the galaxy,” Alaric said.

  On the comm, Ran said, “I agree, sir, but we have no phaser power, Captain, and no torpedoes.”

  “They never worked before, anyway,” Alaric said.

  He heard Volka swallow. “Would you do something for her?” she asked in an uncertain voice. It reminded him of other times and different circumstances. Why not just say, would you do something for me? and reach a hand into his chest and tear out his heart while she was at it?

  Alaric swallowed. “If it is in my power.”

  Volka bit her lip. “In my paperbacks, sometimes, when someone died aboard a ship, their coffin was launched into a star. Could we, could you, launch her into the star?” When she spoke, the Volka who had stunned Russo, slain pirates in mech suits, and spoke like a princess looked a lot like the teenage Volka he had known, whispering, would you stay in bed a little longer?

  “We have EM boosters aboard,” he found himself saying.

  “EM boosters?” said Sixty.

  “When we apprehend Galactican pirates, we salvage their ships. Sometimes it’s more convenient to send them to one of our off-planet bases than to complete the operation in zero G. The EM boosters attach to the vessel and take it to a predetermined destination. It might take a month or so from the second planet to the local star, but it would work.”

  “That would work, sir,” said Ran. “And it would make sense before jumping to the Republic to test the nets here. The second planet has ice caps, decent gravity, and air pressure even if the atmosphere doesn’t have enough oxygen. It might be a good place to be if repairs wind up taking a while.”

  “Excellent thoughts, Ran,” said Alaric.

  “Well done, Commander,” said the archbishop.

  “Thank you, sirs,” said Ran, and Alaric could hear his chest puffing.

  He was dimly aware of Sixty’s mouth making a small “o” of shock, Sinclair pursing his lips, and the archbishop narrowing his eyes at Carl. There was something Alaric didn’t know. But Volka was smiling at him, eyes sparking, looking genuinely happy, and for once, he didn’t care.

  26

  Cracks in the Republic

  “There’s another form that Volka has to fill out.” The voice was Lauren G3’s and it was in 6T9’s head. There was a shapely cybernetic leg over his stomach that 6T9 gently removed. Silently, into the ether, he said, “Which form?”

  As Lauren G3 gave the form’s sixteen-character alphanumeric code, he found a pair of underwear that was probably his, stepped over a man sleeping on the floor, and exited the guest room he was loaning to Walker on Carl’s, Volka’s, and his asteroid.

  “Are you going to have the next payment for the spaceship you blew up?” Lauren asked.

  6T9 winced. It wasn’t exactly their asteroid. It was only theirs to live on so long as Carl Sagan’s current form was alive, after which it would revert to full ownership and control of 6T9’s former employer’s great-something grandson. Or that had been the deal until 6T9 blew up the asteroid’s fancy spaceship with chandeliers and gold-plated toilets while trying to save Sundancer. Since the spaceship had technically been only on loan, 6T9 was on the hook for it. Failure to make timely payments could mean not just losing his home, but also going to jail. Until Sundancer’s…demise…he’d been using funds from their delivery service.

  “I don’t think I can renegotiate the payment plan again, 6T9,” Lauren G3 said in an ominous voice.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control,” 6T9 said. Two female Marines were asleep in a window nook, a blanket draped over them. A male Marine was on the floor beside them. Walker had invited thirty-three of her closest friends to the asteroid for leave. With its multiple swimming pools, jacuzzi, sauna, ski hill by the ice mine, billiard room, and deer hunting, it was a relatively cheap luxury location for them. They weren’t quite paying luxury rates—it hadn’t seemed fair since they’d had to bring their own beer and food.

  Looking around for Carl, he stepped on a beer can. “Rusted gears!” he cursed. “Under control” might be a bit of hyperbole.

  “What was that?” Lauren G3 asked.

  “Nothing, all good, trying to find—” At that moment, he spotted Carl curled up on the chest of a sleeping man of considerable stature and musculature affectionately known as “Tank.” The werfle really got around, and not for the first time, 6T9 thought that if he ever did exchange bodies, he would come back as a small, furry, objectively “cute” animal. “Thanks, Lauren G3, gotta go,” said 6T9, disconnecting and then leaning low and whispering, “Carl, wake up!”

  “Go away, the kitty is mine,” Tank muttered, wrapping a protective arm around Carl.

  “Go away,” Carl hissed into 6T9’s ether. “Tank is warm.”

  “I was going to call Volka,” 6T9 said. “Before everyone is—”

  Carl had already slunk from Tank’s embrace. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asked, hopping over to 6T9, ignoring Tank’s semi-conscious protests.

  Together they went down the hall, past other rooms filled with guests. The house was no longer empty, but 6T9 still missed Volka. When they arrived at Time Gate 1, she wasn’t allowed passage off the gate. Her paperwork hadn’t been processed properly when she’d come through the first time, and now Volka was stateless, spending her share of their delivery fees on food and lodging in the gate’s overpriced facilities. But Lauren G3, the law ‘bot, was on the case. 6T9 frowned. Lauren G3’s exact words when he’d told her of the predicament was, “Frankly, I don’t know why you bother. She’ll die in only a few decades; it seems better to build a life with your own kind, or at
least cyborgs. I’m only taking the case because you’re my friend, Android General 1, and I like a challenge.”

  Friend was not a word 6T9 would use to describe Lauren, but since she’d offered to do it pro bono, he hadn’t corrected her.

  There was only one hologlobe-phone in the house—most people just had avatars of themselves meet in the ether, but that was impossible for Volka and for Carl at long distances. For convenience, 6T9 had put the phone on the desk in the butler’s pantry, right off the kitchen. He checked his internal chronometer, sat down at the single chair with Carl on his lap, and connected. The phone rang once, twice, three times on Volka’s end and he found himself holding his breath. The Luddeccean delegation were returning home today. He swallowed. Had Volka decided to go with them? Captain Darmadi was in love with her, and he strongly suspected Volka couldn’t not be in love with him. And even though Walker swore Volka was asleep in her own bunk during the final night on the Merkabah, Sixty wasn’t sure she and Darmadi hadn’t spent time together in those final hours. He’d bumped into them in the hallway in the officers’ wing after their sleep cycles. Darmadi had asked Volka if she’d slept well. She’d replied she had. And then Darmadi had asked her if she had had “pleasant dreams?” She replied that she had dreams that were good more than pleasant, and he replied that he’d had “good dreams, too.” What could it be but subtle Luddeccean innuendo for getting it on?

  Carl’s necklace crackled. “6T9, is your neck out of joint? It’s jerking to the side.”

  Before 6T9 could reply, Volka appeared on the globe.

  “There you are, Sixty. Thank you so much for connecting us, Bracelet,” she said.

  Carl started to grumble, “Volka, I’ve explained that Bracelet is not—”

  6T9 put a hand over Carl’s necklace, muffling the sound. The werfle gave an angry squeak.

  “You’re still there!” he exclaimed.

  Volka huffed. “I wasn’t going to accept Galacticans’ or Ran’s generous offers.”