by Martin Tays
“Life, you see, is just an anomaly. An accident, and one that will sooner or later be corrected. And then the universe can go on as it should ― empty, serene and lifeless.”
Francine May, Noble Laureate Physicist, in her suicide note.
“Of course we’re not alone. They’ve only been hiding themselves because we’re not worthy.
Join me. Help build the Celestial Transmitter. Only then can we contact our brothers and join the Galactic Brotherhood. Operators are standing by to take your tax deductible donations. Bless you.”
First Celestial Brother Arcturus, from We Are Not Alone!
Chapter 26
“The interval between the decay of the old and the formation and establishment of the new constitutes a period of transition which must always necessarily be one of uncertainty, confusion, error, and wild and fierce fanaticism.”
John C. Calhoun
“Congratulations, Grace. You just precipitated mankind’s first inter-species war. And we all said you’d never amount to anything.”
Constantine Grace turned in the command chair to glare at Rafe. “Mister Deppner, I have relieved you of your duties. You may leave the bridge, or you may be escorted from it.”
Rafe grabbed an overhead railing and jabbed a finger at Grace. “You have performed what may be the single stupidest act ever done by a human being. A pretty remarkable feat, when you think on it.” He shook his head. “No. I will not leave the bridge. You need someone here to keep you from trying to best that record.”
Grace stared at him for a moment, then turned to Sam at the fire control station. “Mister Deppner is to be considered under arrest. Please take a security detail and place him in the brig.”
“Um, we don’t have a brig, sir.” She replied tightly.
“Oh? Poor design work. Make a note of it. Meanwhile…” Grace turned and pointed toward Rafe. “Secure him in his quarters with a guard on the door. He is to be allowed to speak with no one.”
Sam looked over at Rafe, then back to the man in the chair. “Sir, we are in a hazardous situation.” She held up a hand to forestall whatever it was that Grace was about to say. “There is no need at the moment to speak of what we might have done different. It’s done, we’re here. If we expect to survive, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Grace cocked an eyebrow at her, then looked over at the former captain, considering. Finally, he shook his head. “No. No, Ms… No. I will not have someone on the bridge questioning my orders. Him or you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal. Sir.” She pointed to two of the security operatives. “Smyth. Dobrinski. Please assist the captain to his quarters.”
One of the guards she had indicated pulled himself over to Rafe and shoved him roughly toward the hatch. “You!” Sam said, pointing toward the guard. The edge in her voice was sharp and brittle. “That will be quite enough of that, thank you. If you don’t believe me, try it again.”
The guard saw the stony expression on her face and apparently decided that that was one button he did not want to push. He turned back to Rafe and, without touching him, gestured toward the hatch. Rafe hung for a long moment, staring at Sam, then turned abruptly and left the bridge. The guards trailed immediately behind.
Sam, turning to follow, was stopped by a word from Grace. “Key.”
She turned back. “Pardon, sir?”
“The Weapons Console key.” He gestured with his hand. “Give it to me. Now.”
“But, sir…”
“No buts. No ifs, no ands. I will maintain direct control of it from now on.” He snapped his fingers at her imperiously.
There was a long, timeless moment as Sam considered him. Finally, though, she lowered her eyes and fumbled the chain off of her neck. “Of course. Of course, sir. Here.” Pushing across the bridge, she handed it to Grace.
Grace grabbed the chain and pulled it around his own neck, tucking it into his shirt. He patted the front of his shirt, absently, and looked back up to her. “Very well. You may go about your business.”
Sam nodded once, jerkily. “Sir.” She then turned to leave the utterly silent bridge, pushing her way to the connection room and down the tunnel to the hab ring. She was in such a hurry she didn’t think about the ring being under spin, and as a consequence almost wrenched her arm off when she grabbed a ladder rung about two thirds of the way down the tube to halt her descent.
She continued down the ladder and dropped down the last few meters to the hab ring floor. Rubbing her shoulder, she sprinted off toward crew quarters, getting to Rafe’s compartment door just in time to see it being opened. The guard had his hand raised to shove him in through the door but, on seeing her, stopped and instead gestured with exaggerated courtesy toward the opening.
Rafe stepped toward the door then paused, looking at her.
Sam flinched from the expression. She looked away ― had to look away ― toward the first guard. “I need to speak with the captain.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, ma’am. The prisoner is not allowed to speak with anyone. Not even you.”
She looked at the wooden expression on his face and realized there was no room for give.
After all, he was just following orders.
Instead, she turned toward Rafe, who had continued into his compartment to turn and stare defiantly out of the door. As the door slid shut she finally shouted “Rafe! Rafe, I’m sorry.” She had no idea if he’d heard her or not.
She stared at the closed door for a long moment, then sighed and turned toward the guards. “Okay, you two are on duty, here. I’ll set up a roster, but figure you’ll get a relief in about four hours. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Clear.”
“Good. Carry on.” She looked at the closed door one last time, then turned and walked resolutely off downturn. Only after she was out of view of the guards did she start to run.
☼
As she pushed her way through the engineering module, Sam was uncomfortably aware of the stares the crew were leveling at her. No one said anything, but the expressions on their faces spoke volumes.
Sam turned and came down the connecting corridor toward maneuvering. As she approached it, she heard loud voices. Angry voices. But when she came around the corner and into the compartment, all conversation stopped. The occupants turned as a group to stare at her, hatred and ― worse ― contempt in their eyes.
“Samantha!” Mad said brightly from the other side of the room. “So good of you to join us!” She shoved off from the wall of instruments she was against and glided over toward Sam, pushing up her sleeves as she came. “We have some unfinished business, you and I.”
Sam grabbed an overhead rail. “Damn it, Mad, we’ve got trouble!”
“Right here in River City.” Mad replied, smiling. “Bitch.”
Sam sighed. She tightened her grip on the rail and, when Madeline came within range, abruptly doubled up to tuck her right knee up against her chest while simultaneously shoving off sharply from the grip. She used the resultant momentum to spin in place. The move was perfectly timed, and her extended left foot clipped the approaching engineer square up the side of the head to send her tumbling, boneless, into a watch stander.
Sam completed the turn, grabbed the rail again, and braced herself against the wall to look at the other people in the room. “Okay. Anyone else want to play?”
After a moment of strained silence, the watch stander who’d been hit by Mad spoke for them all. “Nope. I think we’re good.”
“Alright, then.” He looked toward Mad. “She okay?”
He shrugged and looked down. He had instinctively grabbed her as she struck him, and he was now staring down at the top of her head. Mad shook her head, then reached back to pat him on the knee. “Bill… Billy boy? I’m fine. You can let go of my breast, now.”
“Oh. Oh!” He released her. “Sorry. If I had known, I would have enjoyed it more.”
“Maybe later, dear.” She reached up and gingerly touched the side of her head, wincing a little.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Fine. Peachy. Bitch.”
“So can we talk, now, or would you like me to hit you some more?”
Mad rubbed her face, then looked over at the security op. “What do we have to talk about? You blew up a station full of sentient beings, then arrested the captain for arguing that maybe that was the wrong fucking thing to do.”
Sam shut her eyes, pained, then opened them and looked back at the angry engineer. “I didn’t blow up the station.” She saw the disbelieving expression on Mad’s face. “I didn’t. Look, it’s protocol to have the weapons board unlocked when we come out of warp. Right?”
“And who wrote the protocol?”
Sam sighed. “Grace.”
“Yeah.”
“We came out of warp, and the station saw us and began broadcasting. Grace… you know his panel has override capabilities, right? Grace saw that fire control had locked onto the station automatically. He fired. As soon as he saw the station. Fired. I never… I never had a chance to stop him.” Mad was surprised to see tears in Sam’s eyes. “He fired.”
“Huh.” Mad reached up and grabbed a handrail, then looked again at Sam. Finally, she said “Lemme guess. Rafe took exception to the launch.”
“Oh, yeah. He took exception with great alacrity. He had Grace by the shirtfront and was this close to punching him out when one of the guards stopped him.”
“But… I thought you ran the guards?” Mad asked, confused.
“On paper, yeah.” Sam shrugged. “But they’re all from Grace’s personal security group. They’ll follow my orders only up until I disagree with their real boss.”
“So you just followed orders and arrested Rafe.”
“Yep.” She looked away, embarrassed. “What choice did I have? If I’d objected, I’d be under arrest now, too.”
“So?”
“Damn it, we don’t have time for this.” Sam replied angrily. “Grace has control.”
Mad shrugged. “Grace has always had control.”
“No, you don’t understand. He has the Weapons Console key. He has complete control of the missiles, now.”
“Jesus. Let me guess. You had no choice but to give it to him, right?”
“Not and stay where I stand a chance of stopping him, no.”
Mad looked around at her crew mates, then pushed over to Sam. She stopped and planted a finger in the middle of her chest. “Okay. Just so we have this straight. There’s two sides on this ship, bucko. Two.” She started poking Sam in time to her words. “Which. One. Are. You. On?”
Sam took a deep breath, then replied. “The good guys. I’m with the good guys.”
“Huh.” Mad looked her in the eye for a long moment, the abruptly nodded. “Okay, then.” She raised her voice and turned toward the others in maneuvering. “So, good guy, what do we do now?”
☼
“Well, this sucks.”
Moses looked over toward Ami and shrugged. “True. Could be worse, though. We could be naked, hungry and in jail.” He paused, then looked back across the room at the other occupants. “Oh. Wait…”
The general’s reaction had been swift. He’d surrounded the humans with armed guards. Unfamiliar with their equipment and unwilling to take a chance, he’d forced them at gunpoint to disrobe, leaving their equipment and clothing in a pile in the throne room. He then took them down a set of stairs and into a barred cell, where he left them to go back to the warship.
Moses stretched and smacked his head on the stone ceiling. “Crap. Wouldn’t be so bad if the ceiling was more than five foot from the floor.”
“Yeah.” Mattie replied. “Damned inconsiderate of them, making a cell that only fits their own species.”
“Damn straight.” He paused, then carefully duck walked over to the cell door. He regarded the guard thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and yelled down the corridor “Yngvi is a louse!” He returned to the staring group and grinned a bit. “Sorry. I’ve just always wanted to do that.”
Mattie held up a hand. “Please, never explain that to me.”
“Deal.” He looked around at the others. “So, anyone got any bright ideas?”
“One of the girls could try seducing the guards.”
“Anyone besides Doug?”
“Nope.” Ami replied, pointing back toward the cell door. “But he might.”
Moses turned to see S’Nhu-gli regarding him. Moses waddled back over, carefully, and squatted down to speak with the priest through the lattice work of the cell door. “Howdy.”
“Howdy, friend M’Hoses. Who is Yngvi?”
“Long story. I’ll explain later. Got any bright ideas?”
“No.” He shook his head, a habit he’d picked up from the humans. “Sadly, I don’t.”
“Got any bad ones?”
“It is, as you say, funny that you should mention this.” S’Nhu-gli said, holding up a pcomp. “I have, as you are aware, one of your automaton communication devices. I have been using it to speak with your ship.”
“Yes!” Moses pumped his fist, smacking it as he did so into the ceiling of the cell. “And ouch! Hey, wait a minute.” He thought for a moment, then looked back at Ami. “Oh. Oh, no.”
“Leo had an idea, didn’t he?” Ami asked the priest, her voice appalled.
“Yes, he did.” S’Nhu-gli looked chagrined. “And Maker help us all.”
“Crap.” Moses replied, rubbing his face. He turned back toward the priest. “What’s our part in it?”
S’Nhu-gli stepped back from the cell, waving at one of the guards. The guard obligingly stepped forward and unlocked the door, then moved back to level his weapon at the humans.
Gesturing them forward, S’Nhu-gli continued. “I have informed the guard that the Emperor wishes to speak with the prisoners. They are going to escort you back to the throne room. I shall accompany them. And you.”
“I take it the Emperor doesn’t wish to speak with us?”
“In a word, no.”
“And they believed you?”
“Of course. I am a priest.” His voice was subdued. “It would never occur to them that I would mislead them.”
Moses, stepping through the door, paused. “Crap.” He patted S’Nhu-gli awkwardly on the back. “Sorry you had to do that, buddy.”
“It is a choice I make, and one I must atone for later. Come.” He turned toward the stairs.
“Know something?” Moses asked as he looked back at Ami. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Leo had a bright idea.” Ami replied as she followed him up the hallway. “Who wouldn’t?”
☼
The throne room was close to deserted when they emerged from the stairway’s alcove. Moses, Ami and S’Nhu-gli both ignored the angry exclamations from the guards and started across the room toward the throne. In it sat the Emperor, who was talking with an assistant. He waved the aide away and sat quietly as they approached, finally speaking up as they stopped. “I trust, Lord S’Nhu-gli, that you have a good explanation for this?”
“Yes, sire.” S’Nhu-gli replied, bowing deeply. “We are on the verge of an interstellar war. These people…” He indicated the group of humans, “Are quite possible the only ones who can stop it. And we have imprisoned them and prevented them from communicating with their ship. They must be allowed to leave.”
“I’m sorry.” The Emperor looked over at Moses, then back to S’Nhu-gli. “I cannot allow that.”
“I was afraid you’d say that, sire.” He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out the pc
omp. Holding it up, he spoke. “Friend L’Heo? What is your location?”
One of the guards growled but the Emperor held up a forepaw. “Little busy now.” Leo responded, his voice strained. “Sorry. I’ve got your location fixed, and I’m about thirty seconds out. If I were you, I’d find something to hide behind.”
Moses looked down at the pcomp, then up toward the priest. “Do you have any idea what he’s planning?”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do.”
“Huh.” He looked up toward the Emperor on his throne, then turned to look around the room. His eyes stopped on the huge open doors leading toward the enormous corridor they’d come through what felt like eons ago, then widened. “Oh.” He whispered, then turned toward the group and shouted. “Get behind something! Get behind something NOW!”
Outside, an alarm began sounding. Mattie turned to consider the opening. Then, her eyes widened in turn. “He wouldn’t…” She turned, grabbed No, and bolted for the stairway alcove as fast as she could run. Doug, Fiona and the doctor were right behind. The guards looked at each other, then toward the fleeing humans, and wisely chose to join them.
Moses turned toward Ami, who was looking up toward the throne. He followed her gaze and saw that the Emperor had not moved, but was staring curiously down the corridor, from which a low pitched bass rumble had just started to emerge.
“Shit.” Said Moses calmly, as he and Ami simultaneously bolted up the steps toward the throne. “Piss. Fuck. Cunt.” They arrived at the throne at the same time and, without breaking stride, grabbed the surprised Emperor on both sides and lifted him bodily out of and over his throne. “Cocksucker.” They raced toward the back of the platform as the roaring from the corridor rose to unbelievable levels. The stone floor under them reverberated with it. “Motherfucker.” The back side of the stone platform sat about a meter off of the surface of the throne room floor. They didn’t break stride as they sailed off, assisted by the incoming massive rush of air roaring through the huge corridor doorway. “Tiiiiiiits!!!!” They hit the ground hard and flat, the Emperor between them, just as the shuttle blasted through the doors and into the vast room.
