“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“We don’t need such a dangerous asset running unbidden around settled space. Are you sending the Military Police after her?”
She stood and went to the glass door, staring at but not seeing the dark ripple of Lake Fuori beyond it. “That would be why I’m here. Before she left, she used STAN to locate some very, very classified files. The Artificial shouldn’t have had access to them, but I suspect ever since Noetica began it has had access to a great deal more than we ever realized.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “She knows what we did.”
“We’ve done a lot of things, Eleni, and will answer for many of them one day.”
“True enough. But she knows about the mission that initiated the First Crux War.”
“Oh.” He dragged a hand down his face and stood to join her at the door to the porch. “Well, this is a problem. What are you thinking we should do?”
What indeed.
PART VII:
THE STARS LIKE GODS
“There is no planet, sun or star could hold you, if you but knew what you are.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Portal: C-2
System Designation:
Kamen
37
IRELTSE
* * *
A ring of torches lit the arena floor and the funeral pyre it held. Pinchu and an honor guard entered from a dark corridor on the left, carrying Cassela’s body atop a long, elaborately adorned platform. When the procession reached the center of the arena, it placed the platform atop the stack of crisscrossing beams that formed the waiting pyre.
Many had died in the battle for the city, and they would be laid to rest by their families in private services over the coming days. Cassela was special, however, and not only to Pinchu. Thousands of Khokteh filled the arena to capacity; thousands more lined the streets outside, paying their respects simply by being present.
Alex and Caleb sat on the last row, high above the arena. They needed to be here, too, but didn’t want to interfere with or distract from the funeral proceeding.
The ceremony began in earnest, a series of customs and rites they didn’t understand.
Alex rested her head on Caleb’s shoulder and curled her hand around his. She tried to concentrate on the service, but every aspect of it—the torches, the funeral pyre, the ritual chanting and ornamental dress worn by those at the center of it—reinforced an impression she’d been thinking about since the battle, and not solely so she didn’t have to think about Cassela’s death and Pinchu’s desolation.
She kept her voice at a low murmur. “Something’s been bugging me. The Khokteh weapons and ships are impressive, but the rest of their technology—anything unrelated to war or violence—doesn’t seem advanced enough for a society that colonized their solar system more than a millennium ago. Most of it is, what, early-21st century Earth equivalent? And this ceremony? It’s lovely in a tragic way, but it’s almost…primitive.”
“It could merely be a difference in cultural values. They remain closer to nature than we do, so it makes sense that they’ve chosen not to allow technology to take over their lives.”
“Pinchu did say that was why the EMP was a viable option—because tech didn’t run everything here. The outage caused some problems and inconveniences for them, but it wasn’t catastrophic. The biggest danger was to their pilots, and given warning they were able to eject safely.”
She sighed. “Still, it’s strange. The scientific underpinnings of the military advancements should have permeated their society to a greater extent than they have. And if their impulse engines really can reach 0.4 light speed and have for centuries, they should’ve figured out FTL travel by now. I don’t know. I’m probably imposing human standards on them.”
“Maybe a little, but you’re right. It’s odd.” He idly ran a thumb along her knuckles. “Speaking of the EMP, though. If you’d been connected to Valkyrie when it went off, you might have died. Is there no way to protect you from that sort of external shock?”
She tried deflecting the question. The truth was, she was virtually certain she had been connected to Valkyrie immediately before the EMP, but she hadn’t found the opportunity to have a proper conversation with the Artificial about it. “It’s not as if we’re likely to be facing EMPs on a regular basis.”
“But we absolutely might be—or targeted weapons based on the concept, or naturally occurring fields that create the same effect. I want you to get Valkyrie working on some type of ware buffer or failsafe switch. I know Dr. Canivon insisted anything of that nature would disrupt the link, but I refuse to accept it’s impossible.”
“All right. The fact it wasn’t possible to begin with doesn’t mean it can’t be possible with the understanding gained from using the Prevo tech.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Pinchu’s voice grew in volume, drawing their attention back to the ceremony in the arena. His arm rose in the air, lifting a torch high.
“Casselanhu Pwemku Yuanwoh Vneh was our Amacante Naabaan, our conscience, our heart, the spirit of our shikei. She represented the best of us, and we will forever be lesser for her absence. We comm—” his voice broke “—commit her to the sky, where she will watch over us for eternity.”
He lowered the torch to the edge of the pyre. The material caught fire easily, and flames burst forth to envelop the body. The arena danced in a surreal orange glow as the pyre became a towering inferno licking the sky.
All around them the attendees chanted a portentous hymn. Like most hymns its words didn’t form meaningful sentences, but together they conveyed loss, grief and tribute.
She had to give the Khokteh credit—the service was moving and impactful in a way few funerals were. The fire in the darkness lent it gravity and solemnity, the orations and hymns, consequence. She snuggled closer to Caleb, craving the warmth of human touch. His touch.
“Caleb, I want to tell you something.”
He turned to look at her. His irises were shimmering facets of sapphire in the lambent light of the fire. “What is it?”
She licked her lips and cleared her throat; the fire was sucking all the moisture out of the air. “I’ve spent most of my adult life alone—genuinely alone, only me on my ship. I always thought it was what I wanted. I thought I was happy—and I was. But I didn’t know….” Dammit, she’d rehearsed this in her head, yet still she struggled to sound remotely eloquent. So she kept rambling.
“I didn’t know how fulfilling true companionship could be. I didn’t know life could be this rich, this vibrant. I—every day has been better since I’ve been with you. Even the worst days have been better. So thank you. Thank you for showing me the wonder life can be. And…please don’t leave, because I don’t think I can go back to the way things were before you.”
“You can be pretty silly sometimes.”
What? It wasn’t the response she’d expected…and he wasn’t smirking. He was smiling, tenderly, exquisitely. Her nose crinkled in confusion. “ ‘Silly’ isn’t something people typically call me. ‘Bitch,’ ‘cold,’ ‘infuriating,’ ‘heartless,’ the list goes on. But not ‘silly.’ ”
“Silly. Don’t you know?” His thumb softly traced her lower lip on its way to caress her jaw. “I realize a marriage only lasts as long as the couple chooses for it to last, but I will never be able to walk away from you. If you want me gone from your life, someone’s going to have to drag me away in chains. Because I am not leaving willingly. Ever.”
She also hadn’t expected her heart to thud in her chest so fiercely, not after so much time together. Fresh out of words to begin to convey what she felt, she pressed her cheek into his palm and covered his hand with hers. “Oh. Okay then.”
Alex stared up at the darkness that eventually led to the bedroom’s high ceiling. Despite this being the second-worst day of his life—the worst being the previous one—amid all his obligations and sorrow Pinchu had found the time to i
nsist they continue to stay at his home. They’d agreed, if only to not cause a scene in the emotionally charged atmosphere.
She couldn’t sleep. The hour was late, the bed was comfortable and her husband lay safe beside her, but she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she was haunted by the burning pyre and the mournful chants.
Now she closed them anyway. Caleb had shifted in slumber to face the wall, but she didn’t want to risk waking him with the telltale glimmer of light from her eyes.
Valkyrie, time to talk about what happened during the attack. I know we were connected when Pinchu triggered the EMP. I’m quite glad I didn’t stroke from it, but why didn’t I stroke?
Though I had left the area, I continued to monitor the situation in the city. The Siyane’s instruments detected the power surge of the EMP as it was activated, and I broke the link to you 2.3 microseconds before the pulse reached your location.
That’s the ‘what,’ not the ‘how.’ You and I both know I’m supposed to be the only one who can toggle the connection. It was a safety measure Mom insisted on, and I believe Abigail complied with the request.
She did.
Do not make me deep-dive your thoughts, Valkyrie. You can’t hide it from me, but I’d prefer you tell me yourself.
Very well. When you gave me control of your mind on Rudan, a side-effect of my actions during those brief seconds was to inadvertently create several new pathways in your cerebral cortex. One of those pathways granted me access to the neuron cluster responsible for making and signaling the decision to toggle our connection.
Wait a minute. Are you saying you didn’t toggle the connection yourself? You had me do it? Unknowingly?
For lack of a better way to put it, yes. Please understand, it was not my intent to create these new pathways or to ever access these regions of your mind. With disuse, in time the pathways should fade then disappear.
She lay there in silence for nearly a minute; to her credit, Valkyrie respected the silence.
Don’t let that pathway fade. In using it, you may have saved my life, and you almost certainly saved me from some lesser badness. Caleb’s right—you need to be able to kill the link. If this is the way to give you that capability, then this is the way. Just…don’t go rewiring any other parts of my brain, please?
I would never. Your mind is beautiful.
Um…thank you. I realize it’s broken in a few areas, but it’s my damage to own.
The brokenness makes you who you are as much as the far more prolific excellence. One cannot separate the parts from the whole. En masse, I think perhaps it is your soul.
38
IRELTSE
* * *
“When Pinchu said he was going to ask the gods for a way to exact retribution, somehow I didn’t think he meant literally.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow and regarded the temple skeptically, an expression Alex shared. They once again found themselves on the fringes of a gathered crowd of Khokteh. The sun now shone a harsh copper high in the sky and the setting was a marble temple on the outskirts of the city, but in most other respects it was enough like the night before to conjure a little déjà vu.
‘I have been reviewing the additional texts you were provided. If they are to be trusted, the Khokteh ‘gods’ have been supplying weapons technology to them since the war began, and possibly earlier. Their pantheon of gods appears to behave much as the gods of Greek and Roman legend, using the mortals as proxies to wage their own wars. Some gods reportedly support the Ireltse homeworld, others the Nengllitse or Tapertse colony. When one ups the ante in the war by supplying a new weapon or technology, the others respond in kind.’
Caleb laughed dryly under his breath. “That’s damn interesting.”
At the front of the temple, upon a raised dais, Pinchu intoned more ritualistic words as part of another ceremony. It somehow felt even more distinctly primitive than the funeral, as the service had been driven by raw emotion. Here, beneath a blazing sun, his actions seemed starkly at odds with the intelligent, civilized being she had found Pinchu to be.
The enclosed area of the temple around the dais began to glow a pale blue. She stretched up onto the balls of her feet; they stood on a ledge, but it was still a challenge to get a clear view over the heads of the very tall Khokteh.
The glow coalesced into individual points of light, then into the rough, amorphous shape of a Khokteh.
Alex groaned and banged her head on the pillar behind her. “Ebanatyi pidaraz…. That isn’t a god. That’s a fucking Metigen.”
Caleb merely nodded, lips pursed firmly, his eyes on the dais.
“You guessed?”
“Let’s just say I am experiencing the absence of surprise.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged but didn’t divert his attention from the ongoing spectacle. “I could have been wrong.”
The Metigen’s voice filled their heads the same as Mesme’s had done on Portal Prime.
I mourn your losses alongside you. What befell you and your city is a tragedy. I will do all I can to aid you in your quest for justice, and for victory.
Because you remain faithful, I am providing your engineers the knowledge required to construct weapons that will not be stopped by the Nengllitse’s improved defenses. Further, I am providing insight into a weapon which will enable you to attain a just and worthy reckoning. Your vigilance and faith will be rewarded.
“This is ridiculous! I’m going to—”
Caleb grabbed her arm and hauled her off the ledge and behind the pillar. “No, you’re not. Odds are this isn’t Mesme, which means odds are it isn’t friendly toward us. We need a damn good reason to reveal ourselves, and right now we don’t have one.”
“But it’s manipulating them. Using them for its own despicable purposes, whatever the hell they are.”
“And maybe we can engage in a conversation with Pinchu later, though I’m not at all certain he’s open to reason at the moment. But not here. We cannot act rashly on this issue. Alex, you need to start thinking like a spy. This is what we’ve been hoping for—the chance to watch the Metigens interact with these pocket universes. If you interfere, we’ll lose that advantage as soon as we’ve gained it.”
She sank against the pillar. What were the Metigens doing? They didn’t interfere in this manner in their universe, at least not so flagrantly. In fact, they had tried to exterminate humanity simply because it might discover the Metigens existed.
So why expose themselves here? Why actively play the different Khokteh factions off one another? For sport? Were they really so depraved…actually, she could believe they were that depraved. They didn’t view other species, humans included, as life worthy of preserving. Perhaps Mesme did, after a fashion, but given their behavior toward humanity she doubted the other Metigens were so inclined.
Pinchu’s voice rose above the murmur of the crowd. “Your servants give most humble thanks to you, Iapetus. Blessed be your gifts.”
“Iapetus? Do they know it’s named itself after a god of mortality?”
Caleb’s tone gained an edge of cynicism. “Somehow I doubt it. It seems the joke’s on the Khokteh.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Every Metigen we’ve encountered has claimed the name of a Greek Titan. Do you think it’s possible Greek mythology was in reality the Metigens meddling in our early development?”
“Sure, it’s possible. But…” he at last shifted his focus away from the dais to gaze off into the distance, then at her “…mostly what bothers me is this: why is this Metigen using a Greek Titan name here? It should’ve taken a Khokteh name.”
“I agree, it should have. What are you getting at?”
He cast a long glance back at the dais, where Pinchu bestowed more sanctifications on ‘Iapetus.’ “What if they’re not our mythology? What if instead they’re the Metigens’ mythology—or everyone’s mythology?”
On the dais the Metigen visitor dissolved away to chants and bows; all the defer
ence and worship made her sick to her stomach. “I always hated mythology—the gods acted like petulant, narcissistic bastards. So, yes, knowing what I do about the Metigens, I’d buy that.”
She pushed off the pillar. “Come on, let’s stay close to Pinchu. I want to find out exactly how this ‘providing of knowledge’ occurs.”
The Chief Military Engineer, who had been introduced to them as “Nakuridi,” led them down a winding staircase. The air gained a slight chill as they descended, leading Caleb to suspect they were now below ground.
A display of innocent, professional interest had convinced a distracted Pinchu to arrange a tour of the weapons development facility for them. Nakuridi had been at the temple, waiting to receive this gift of deadly, divine technology, and following a quick discussion they had been pawned off on the Chief Military Engineer.
The facility was near the northern edge of the city, beneath a building devoted to civil engineering—again, there was almost no separation between civilian and military pursuits.
They came to a wide doorway. The staircase continued to descend, but Nakuridi motioned them through the door into a large room. The floor space was devoted to the manufacturing of the personal heavy weapons they had used during the Nengllitse attack.
It wasn’t an assembly-line production in the strictest sense. A combination of automated machinery and Khokteh workers in full-body lab suits assembled the weapons along three parallel rows.
“Here we produce the personal firearms for our military personnel. We—”
Alex was peering toward the nearest workstation with interest. “Can we take a closer look?”
Nakuridi grumbled in apparent uncertainty. Though he’d voiced no unease on meeting them, he’d acted awkward and formal with them thus far. He retrieved two lab suits from a cabinet beside the door. “You must don these…but you are so little…. Simply make do?”
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