by M. R. Forbes
"Come on, Dad," he said, knocking one more time. "We need to talk about this. I know you're hurting, but hiding away isn't going to help anything."
He waited. Theodore didn't answer.
"Human emotions are intriguing," Pil'kek said. "We, too, used to feel loss. It seems like so long ago. When creating life becomes as simple as a switch on a machine, it loses its value. It is unfortunate."
"It's turned your kind into monsters," Gabriel said. "Some of them, anyway."
"They used to think the legri'shah were monsters to be destroyed until they realized the value of the lek'shah." Pil'kek shook his head. "Then they became resources to control. It should not be that a human holds them in higher esteem than the ones they saved."
"No, it shouldn't." Gabriel prepared to knock on Theodore's door again. As much as he respected his father, he didn't have time or energy to be polite. "Damn it, Dad. You're making a mockery of her death. You might as well have died fifty years ago if you're going to give up now."
He figured that would bring Theodore out. He was right.
The door slid open, an angry Theodore in his chair behind it. His eyes were red, his face flushed, his uniform wrinkled, shirt untucked.
"What the hell do you know about anything, boy?" Theodore shouted. "Mockery? If I had my legs, I'd run you down and beat some damn sense between those ears of yours. I've given my whole life for this cause. This war. Everything I got. What the hell does it mean? What the hell is it for? She stayed alive for me. She did everything she could to come back to me. She brought me back to life. Now she's gone again."
The tears welled in his eyes. Gabriel felt guilty for what he had said, but there had been no other choice.
"She wasn't Juliet, Dad," he said. "She wasn't. A clone. A copy. Sure, she believed she was, but it wasn't true."
"You keep telling me that, son. I've heard it over and over. You don't trust her. She ain't real. You trusted Tea'va, that son of a whore. You believed in him. How'd that work out?"
Gabriel felt the blow in his gut. He took it in stride. That was his fault, at least in part. But Theodore couldn't have argued that at the time, they needed the Dread. They would have never made it onto the Ishur without him.
"I'm not just saying she wasn't really Mom." Gabriel looked over at Pil'kek, who seemed uncomfortable with the whole exchange. "Pil'kek is a keeper. He knew Mom personally."
Theodore's eyes swept over to the keeper. He didn't react at all to the bek'hai's more reptilian appearance. "You knew Juliet? How?"
"She visited the keepers, Dahm St. Martin," Pil'kek said. "She spent time with us when all others were forbidden. She appreciated the legri'shah, as well as our nature, in comparison with the other bek'hai."
"Legri'shah?" Theodore said.
"The source of the Dread armor," Gabriel said. "Creatures, as big as a dinosaur. Kind of like a dragon. There are a few on board."
"And I didn't know this, why?"
"I only discovered them recently," Gabriel said. "Besides, it wasn't that important. The keepers are peaceful. Their concern are the legri'shah."
"What does this all have to do with Juliet?"
"We knew Juliet St. Martin well, Dahm St. Martin," Pil'kek said. "She was much loved among all of the keepers. Your son wanted me to come to tell you, and I mean this with all honesty, the clone known as Zoelle was only that. A clone. Not the real Juliet St. Martin. I am sad to say; she died many years ago. The bek'hai cannot finish the cloning process without killing the pur'hai. The source."
Theodore froze. He didn't move at all. Not for a minute or more. Gabriel could tell his mind was going, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to come to some kind of resolution on how he should feel.
"She knew things," he said. "Personal things."
"It is not recommended for the memories to be stored and transferred during the cloning process, as it makes the clone unstable for their intended use. It is also not impossible."
"But... that can't be. Shielle, she was a clone. She looked like Juliet. She betrayed us."
"The keepers listen to all communications sent from above, Dahm St. Martin. It is clear to me that there are some clones of Juliet who are, what is a good word? Enhanced. And some who are not. It is wrong to think that clones are all the same. They are not. Even for the bek'hai, biology is so complex that it cannot be fully controlled."
"You're saying that someone muddied the waters? Made a Juliet that was more like my Juliet?"
"That is what I believe."
Theodore grinned. "She always was good at making people see things her way. You think she convinced one of the other ones not to be such an asshole?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, Dahm St. Martin."
"How many of the bek'hai want war?" Theodore asked. "How many agreed with the Domo'dahm's invasion?"
"Many. Not all."
Theodore nodded. "Ah, my darlin'. Heh. The Domo'dahm doesn't know what he's done, does he?"
"Dad?" Gabriel asked.
"We're going to win this war, Gabriel," Theodore said. "Your mother's already seen to it. We just need to do our part."
"Which is?"
"Stay the course, for now. You said Major Peters had a clone of your mom with him?"
"Yes."
"I'm willing to bet she's one of the special ones. I'm also willing to bet there are more of them out there. I hope she's still alive. It'll make things easier."
Gabriel was happy to see his father's despair shrinking, but he still didn't know what he was talking about.
"I'm confused," he said.
"Heh. Don't worry about it, son. I'm gonna be okay, thanks to you, and to you." He looked at Pil'kek. "I'm not saying it don't hurt because it does. I never wanted to see my darlin' like that. But you're right. She didn't go through all of this to have me fail on her. I'm gonna get cleaned up, and then I'll be back on the bridge. We've got a lot of work to do. More now, without Zoelle."
Gabriel nodded. He was glad his father used the clone's name, instead of his mother's.
"The keepers can help us translate," Gabriel said.
"We do have one request," Pil'kek said.
"What's that?" Theodore asked.
"We must try to save as many of the legri'shah as we can. There are so few remaining."
"I'll do my best, Mr. Pil'kek."
"Thank you, Dahm St. Martin."
Theodore smiled. "No. Thank you."
THIRTY-EIGHT
GENERAL ALAN CAVE STARED out of the small window of his quarters on Alpha Settlement, looking up at Delta Station in the distance. The military installation seemed so small from here. So unimportant.
Little had seemed important in these last few weeks, for him and for many others in the settlements. Not since Theodore St. Martin had taken away their only hope of ever escaping the nightmare they had been trapped in for the last fifty years, leaving them to wonder just how much longer the equipment that sustained them would last. They had always known the answer wasn't forever, and that they would need to leave Chalawan. While they had always hoped it would be to return to their home planet, he had finally gotten many of them to accept that it wasn't meant to be, and that drastic measures would be needed to preserve what was left of humankind.
It hadn't been easy to do, either. So many of the council members had been loyal to Theodore at first. Hell, even he had started out loyal to the Old Gator and his delusions. But the years had shown that nothing was going to change. The missions to Earth had only resulted in pilots dying and irreplaceable resources being lost, and the overload of work for their engineers was proof that the temporary facilities they had brought with them would only last for so long.
He had taken the hard road, the unpopular road. He had even gone so far as to drug the man he had once respected more than anything in order to keep him quiet while the important decisions were made. Doing it had made him sick. Lying about it had made him sicker. He had done it for the good of the many. For the future of their entire species, not
because he wanted people to die. Not because he wanted to leave anyone behind.
Not that any of that mattered now.
The great General St. Martin had come roaring back to life on the news that the Dread armor wasn't completely impenetrable. He had used his reputation to break every law the New Earth Alliance had composed, and in one fell swoop had effectively killed every single one of them.
He had stolen the Magellan.
He wasn't coming back.
That was the truth General Cave was forced to live with. That they had all been forced to live with. He had sensed the change in the spirit of the people immediately after the Magellan had slipped away. He could still feel their resignation, their loss of hope, and their distress every time he made the journey from his quarters to his office. He could see the way they looked at him, their eyes pleading for a miracle he knew he couldn't produce. They didn't have the resources to build another ship. They didn't have another way out.
He turned from the viewport, picking up his jacket and slipping it on. He straightened himself and then headed out into the community. It had become more important than ever for him to appear to be in control. To stay strong, to look strong, and to act with a confidence he didn't feel. Sometimes, as he walked across the common area toward the loop, it seemed as though it might be the only thing holding any of them together.
He said hello to a few people he passed on his way to the station. The laughter of the children was such a stark contrast to the moroseness of the adults. They were young and innocent. They didn't understand the reality of their future. It was difficult to listen to sometimes, knowing that it was going to end badly for them. It was another thought he had to fight against on a daily basis. Another truth he didn't want to accept.
There was a pod waiting at the station when he arrived, and he stepped into it and sat down, finding himself beside Councilwoman Rouse.
"Angela," he said, nodding to her.
"General," she replied.
"What's on the docket for today?" he asked as the pod's canopy sealed and it began to move.
"We're still working on the plans for the personnel reduction. The baby lotteries have been put on hold, and we've been forced to abort a few of the early-stage pregnancies."
"You're aborting people who are already expecting?"
"At their request, Alan," she replied defensively. "People don't want to have children knowing they're going to grow up here." She paused. "And die here."
"How far along is the planning process for contraction?"
"We have a plan to move Beta settlement over and recapture the resources for necessities. It should buy us at least twenty years. Once that's done, we're going to look into disassembling Delta."
"You should have started with Delta."
"I know, but that motion was blocked by the Believers."
"Is that what they're calling themselves?"
"Yes. They still think Theodore is going to come back and lead them to salvation."
"I guess it's as good a belief as any. People need something to pin their hopes on."
"I'd rather they help us be pragmatic and work out the logistics so that we can maybe find a way to ride this thing out."
"Ride it out? Like there's an end in sight?"
"The science teams are shifting focus to finding other potential ways to get us out of this system. We still have the coordinates to the New Earth; we just need a ship that can take us there. It may be that we have to do a generation style vessel, but it beats the hell out of waiting to die here. That's why we aren't dismantling Delta yet. Rachel Dawes in engineering thinks we might be able to fabricate a solar sail and hook it up to the station. It would take us a few hundred years to get to the New Earth, but we would get there."
"Pie in the sky," General Cave said. "The printers can't do anything that thin and light."
"Not now, but if they can improve them-"
"That's a big if."
"What the hell do you want us to do?" Angela cursed. "Accept that we're going to die?"
General Cave froze. "Damn it. I'm sorry, Angela. I woke up in a lousy mood today."
"I wake up like that every day recently. But we need to pull together. We aren't dead yet, and that's a start."
"Right."
The pod slowed as it reached the central hub. Councilwoman Rouse and General Cave got out together, heading for the administrative offices. They were halfway to the elevators when the doors to them opened, and Spaceman Owens came limping out.
"Sir," he said, seeing the General but forgetting to salute. "I've been trying to contact you. You need to get to the CIC immediately."
"The CIC? What's happening?"
"We just got a comm from Delta. Their long-range sensors are picking up two unidentified objects that just appeared in system and are headed this way."
"Two?" General Cave said. "That can't be Theodore."
"No, sir," Spaceman Owens agreed. "But whoever or whatever they are, sir, Major Looper said they're huge."
THIRTY-NINE
"GET ME A VISUAL," General Cave said as the doors to the elevator opened, and he stepped out into the CIC.
The settlement's emergency command center was located at the bottom of the central hub, buried four hundred meters deep. It was a claustrophobic space, small and dark and crowded with monitors and communications equipment. Five soldiers worked in rotating shifts within it, manning the stations in case of a red alert. For years, those shifts had changed from one to another without incident or interruption. For years, the entire ready room had been ready but never utilized.
Until today.
"And patch me in with Major Looper on Delta while you're at it," he added as he took a seat behind the main control unit.
The monitor in front of him changed, showing him the large blobs outlined by their sensors. They were massive. Easily bigger than any of the settlements, and even dwarfing Delta Station by order of magnitude.
"General," Major Looper said, his face appearing on the corner of the monitor.
"Major. I'm looking at your sensor images. What can you tell me?"
"Nothing good, sir," Looper replied. "They're big. Damn big. They came out of nowhere, just showed up on our sensors about ten minutes ago. And they're coming this way."
"Just showed up, as in traveled in from a slipstream?"
"We still have astronomy looking at the vector data to confirm, but my gut feeling says yes."
General Cave looked at the screen again. There was only one thing he knew of that was that big and could travel through slipspace. Just the thought of it sent a wave a panic rushing through him and prickling his skin.
"Major, scramble the fighters," he said, forcing himself to stay calm. "Prepare whatever BIS you have and get as many personnel clear of Delta Station as you can."
"Sir?" Major Looper said. "What is it?"
"I hope I'm wrong about this Major; I really hope I am. I think the Dread have found us."
The silence at the other end was all the confirmation General Cave needed that Looper understood the gravity of the situation.
"Looper, are you still there?"
"Yes, sir," the Major replied, his voice weak. "Sir, am I clear that you want me to send the starfighters to attack the Dread?"
General Cave drew back in surprise of his own. The Major was only thirty-three years old and had never seen the Dread before. He didn't understand what he was suggesting. "Attack them? Absolutely not. Our ships can't do anything against those things. No. I want you to evacuate Delta Station. Get as many troops to Alpha as possible, and get them down into the shelters. Do you understand, Major?"
"Yes, sir," Looper replied. "Affirmative."
"Good. Cave, out."
General Cave glanced at the soldiers manning the CIC. They all looked terrified at what he had said.
"Sound the general alarm," he said. "Red alert, across all settlements. All civilians are to report to their designated attack shelters."
"Yes, si
r," the soldiers replied.
A moment later, a red strobe light began to flash above the hatch behind him, signaling the red alert. A similar strobe would be going off everywhere around Alpha, Beta, and Gamma settlements, along with announcements directing people to the underground bombardment shelters.
Not that it would make a difference if the Dread really had found them and were coming to finish the job they started all of those years ago. The shelters were deep underground, but they had also been bored into stone that would turn to slag under the heat of a massive plasma attack. A single crevice venting their limited atmosphere was all it would take to kill them.
"Now what, sir?" one of the soldiers asked.
"Now we pray," General Cave replied. "That's all we can do."
The soldier nodded, turning back to his monitors. General Cave shifted his attention to the screens in front of his station. He switched the view, cycling through the cameras positioned around Alpha settlement, both interior and exterior. The contrast was stark and frightening. Inside, the base was a flurry of activity, as everyone within it was on the move, headed for the underground shelters. Outside there was near calm, save for a squadron of starfighters streaking away from Delta Station toward him.
"ETA to visual?" he asked, watching the monitor for signs of the enemy ships.
"One minute," one of the soldiers replied.
They were coming in so fast.
He pulled in a deep breath, trying to steady suddenly shaking limbs. He was scared. Hell, they were all scared.
"Major Looper," he said, opening the comm to Delta again. "I don't see any BIS out there."
"Sir," Looper said. "We're still loading them."
"Loading them with what?" he asked.
"They were half-filled with supplies. We had to discard them to get more people on."
"There's no time left, Major. Get as many people on them as you can and get them away from the station."
"Yes, sir." He paused. "Sir?"
"Yes, Major."
"We only have space for five hundred on the transports."
General Cave closed his eyes. That was one-third of the people currently on the station. How were they even deciding who stayed and who went?
