* * * * *
Alessia returned to the bridge of Sesylendae some time later and told the crew that she was going to check on Selerael. Hurrying down Selesta’s corridors and elevation shafts, she reached her quarters where Selerael was still asleep, her soft breathing uninterrupted by the chaos on the planets below.
Soon she realized that the computer would not leave her alone.
Alessia spared a moment’s thought on Ornenkai, intrigued that he had made such a sacrifice, wondering why he had done it. Who could have guessed that his ancient spirit had resided in the ship all this time? The main computer itself wasn’t obviously the controlling force behind the ship, and yet it was essential to all ship functions. How could the Elder allow himself to become Selesta’s guide and living vessel, the main computer the brain of the ship and the ship his own body? It was not like the proud Ornenkai at all. The mere sight of the computer’s minor terminals did not fill an onlooker with awe, though it had been many years since anyone visited its main installation, located far below and to the stern of the engine room; its position had been chosen to appear unobtrusive and insignificant as a security precaution.
The main computer’s brain mirrored that of a humanoid in many ways; in its sensory receptors, chemical synapses, and electrical impulses. Another feature which distinguished it, though this fact remained unknown to the explorers or its present crew, was the computer’s ability to feel, or more accurately, its memory of feeling.
When had she really suspected, then, that the ship was Ornenkai? Even an ordinary computer would know all about her life and mission, and argue as it had been programmed, even seem to feel human emotions. How had he at last given himself away? She didn’t even know the answer. And she still didn’t understand why Ornenkai, who had once been Vice-Emperor and had helped to create the Seynorynaelian Empire, should want so badly to see it destroyed. Or why he should want to see the end of Ilikan Marankeil so desperately. What did he have to gain by it? He had betrayed the Emperor to Hinev’s immortals so many years ago, on the day of their last departure from Seynorynael, and given up absolute power and mobility—
“So what are you doing now?” Ornenkai asked, almost impatiently, at last interrupting her.
“I told you to escape on Sesylendae and look for the singularity yourself.” She told him. “You know what I’m doing.”
“And I told you I’m not going anywhere.”
“I have to get rid of Selesta. Then no one, neither Marankeil nor Sargon—nor you, will be able to retrieve the singularity. And then let Marankeil come here to Rigell. If there’s nothing here for him to gain, I believe he’ll leave this system in peace.”
“You believe that, but hope accomplishes nothing. I know Marankeil better than you.”
She ignored him. She was singing softly to Selerael, who was sleeping, sleeping strangely soundly.
“Alessia, tell me you’re coming with me.” He said. “I’m giving you one last chance to change your mind.”
“The electromagnetic field is almost finished charging on Sesylendae.” She said, defiantly. “Hurry up and escape now while you can.”
Because of that, Ornenkai didn’t hesitate. It was there, his secret weapon, his last weapon, and he would use it. She had left him no choice, other than to use it. And so he reached back across time and summoned the specially modulated signal frequency.
The signal made no sound any mortal ears could hear, but Alessia stopped and reached a hand up to the side of her head, and she was immediately his.
That sound—she felt a sense of horror wash through her. She knew it! She knew that sound! And this signal permeated agony throughout her system, galvanizing the smallest sub-atomic part of her. So, it was the source of the pain, the delirium...
Now she and Ornenkai both knew that she had been right all these years to suspect that her actions and destiny were not entirely her own choice. The Council had placed a microscopic, undetectable nano-agent control chip in her mind–before Hinev had given her the serum. The serum that had metamorphosed her body had transformed but never taken notice of what appeared to be a native cell—a mind overriding cell containing a nano-implant chip, hidden in Alessia’s memory, made sentient and indestructible by the serum, a cell programmed and controlled only by the power of the Council’s activating signal. Of all the Elders, Ornenkai had never intended to use it to control her.
But in the end he had no remorse in doing it at all.
Now, lost memories of her secret meetings in the Main Terminus in the Council Building came flooding back, and Alessia recalled the hideous visage of Marankeil in his many forms: the great computer at Ariyalsynai, his mobile robotic form, his many attempted clone embodiments, and his final rebirth back in mechanized form, awaiting the transfer to the supreme immortal human body. His sessions with her, in which he had learned information about her Enorian father, but nothing of the other Enorians he wanted so desperately to find.
“And now you will do what I tell you,” Ornenkai informed her.
She flinched, paralyzed; his own soul was nearly paralyzed with her. Oh yes, he still had a soul, he thought, voluntarily enveloping himself in darkness. And he regretted using force—how he regretted it, for it meant he would have to do everything alone! But the only way he could act was through her. He had no control in the physical world; how he hated and yes, despised his powerlessness! How he wished, wished so very much, that he didn’t have to do what he was doing. She would never know how difficult his decision had been. Nothing was going as he had wanted it! In the end, that disappointment was more unsatisfying than he was willing to put up with.
“Come here.” He said, stonily.
Alessia winced, fought, staggered, and then her self-control snapped. She was moving against her will, entirely against her will.
As she moved to obey, she used the last of her own will to reach down and hurriedly kiss her daughter’s forehead; it was more of a smear on her lips. Forgive me, Selerael, but I can’t fight him, her thoughts went out to Selerael, but Ornenkai also heard them.
“Perhaps Hinev was right.” Ornenkai said suddenly, thinking that Hinev had long known what Ornenkai had only recently discovered. “It was never your destiny to return to Kiel3. Selerael and I will make the journey in your place.”
“Galaxy group seven of the Kane Cluster was the most recently discovered before the Destruction.” Alessia said suddenly, unwillingly assisting him with her memories. “You don’t have enough information about the surviving cosmic holes and the failed centipede throat monitors to plan a course from here.”
Ornenkai would have smiled if he could; he had to admit he admired Alessia’s ability to protest, even under mind control.
“I’ll plot our route inside the Great Cluster and the connecting centipede passages, away from the Ephor and Goeur systems.” He drew up the star charts in the computer holo-sphere for her to observe his route. “I’m going to pass through the natural centipede hole discovered linking galaxy group two and seven, the one where your explorers deliberately failed to enlarge a permanent cosmic hole. Where you tried to keep Marankeil’s vessels from reaching Kiel3’s galaxy.”
“You knew?”
“Yes, of course I knew! Kiel wanted to protect galaxy group seven from us.” He said. “Anyway, Selerael will be safe in the suspended animation capsule.”
“Safe? Can you swear to that? She may be dead by the time you get there, otherwise, and who will help you then?”
“Alessia, I will never allow harm to come to her. You see, I have already thought of everything.”
“Oh? Did you think that it wouldn’t destroy me to have her taken away from me forever?”
“She’ll survive in hypersleep. Even if our journey takes thousands of years, Selerael will survive, and I’ll bring her back to you. Alive. I promise.”
“But you put her life at risk bringing her to such an unfamiliar, inhospitable place. She could be killed there. Kiel3 was a wild, uncivilized planet when we le
ft it—”
“Stop stalling. Now, I want you to use your telekinetic power and Hinev’s mixtures to disguise Selerael’s physical make-up for me. No temporary veils, no illusions, either. You will have to re-arrange her biochemical composition, her cell and organ structures, and Hinev’s mixtures will help alter her skin tones. Do your best. If Selerael can’t fool the creatures of Kiel3, they may kill her.”
Alessia glared at the computer.
“The alteration won’t last. Hinev’s mixtures will break down before you make it past Lysciena.”
“Why, Alessia, you seem to want my plan to fail.” He laughed dryly. “Well, perhaps the mixture would decompose in time, but not if Selerael remains in suspension.”
“You can’t control Selesta without me.”
“I have been in charge of this ship for centuries,” he corrected her. “And I have some access to the navigational computers and engines. As your daughter, Selerael will also be able to control the ship’s internal systems.” He paused. “Such a shame I couldn’t override the explorers’ program and implement the automatic system that day when the anti-serum took Kiel—”
“I know why.” Alessia said viciously. “You didn’t want to save them.”
“I couldn’t save them.” Ornenkai insisted, as though offended by her accusation. “You know that Kiel deactivated the computer control system so that the automatic system would activate only when there was no helm control, and Kilran was there on the bridge when the anti-serum was released. I could do nothing.”
“Couldn’t you? Couldn’t you have stopped the vapors from spreading?”
“No. You know I would have saved Kiel and the others if I could have. I knew Kiel, Kellar, Lierva, Celekar, and Gerryls before you did, did you know that? They helped me to rebuild Selesta. They were a part of The Firien Project for years. I knew them well. You can’t think it gave me pleasure to watch them die!”
“I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore. I never did.”
He stopped, stung by this comment, but he would never let her know that.
“Stop trying to dissuade me, Alessia! I don’t want to leave you, but you know I can’t break my oath and force you to go, that I won’t do. Besides, you would only get in the way in your present state of mind. And I can’t take you with me now that I know you would destroy Selesta if you could— I just can’t believe you could truly carry out that threat. I can’t take you with me now that I know you’ve rejected your mission. But when I find the singularity—yes, when I bring it back to you, you’ll change your mind; you’d better. Then you’ll fulfill your mission, I am certain. I shall restore your faith in me.”
“What about Sargon?”
Ornenkai hesitated. “You created him. You’ll have to deal with him however you can. Just keep him here, and make sure that he doesn’t interfere with our mission.”
“Because you can’t control him, Ornenkai? Do you fear him?”
Ornenkai refused to answer; deep in his mechanical memory, a fire of anger blazed.
Yes, he feared Sargon—and damn her for giving Sargon power over him! He flinched at that thought. He hadn’t meant it—no, he hadn’t meant to condemn her, and he understood Sargon, understood Sargon better than even she did, but he detested the man, too! And how Ornenkai resented Sargon’s presumption that he, an ignorant provincial child, could win Alessia and Selesta for himself and make himself some kind of ruler! Yes, he hated Sargon almost as much as he had hated Eiron.
And how could she fail to see why he had made so many sacrifices all these years? That she was the light that had appeared in his life when he thought he had no more soul to lose, the light that he had followed, searching for a way to atone for all that he had done? How could she still misunderstand him? How could she still not know him after so long?
Didn’t she understand that separating himself from her, abandoning her, was yet another hard sacrifice he had to make?
“Now, Alessia, do as I requested,” he said, and he again used the only weapon he had against her.
Following the computer’s telepathic prompting, Alessia returned to her daughter and picked Selerael off the sleep panel, then carried her down to the laboratory. She gave Selerael a sleeping drug before injecting a thick brown emulsion into her wrist, using her telekinetic power to rearrange the cellular and biochemical composition at the same time. Selerael’s forehead broke into a sweat after a moment, but it had even taken those who had undergone the serum injections years to fight and destroy Hinev’s mixtures unless given the antidote, and the mixture had yet to percolate through the child’s system.
“That’s one of the last vials for producing humanoid type L2ij.” Alessia said, dropping the useless vial to the floor when Ornenkai’s hold kept her from reaching the nearest panel.
“We almost ran out of them on Kiel3 the last time we were there in overstaying our welcome as it were, but we saved several to try to duplicate the mixtures if we ever could.” She replied, defensively on the offensive. “Ornenkai, you won’t be able to save her again if the mixture fades. You can’t get at them yourself.”
Ornenkai said nothing; Alessia turned at the sound of her daughter’s gasping breath and instinctively thought to reach for her—
Then found she couldn’t move. Meanwhile, Hinev’s mixture was beginning to take effect. Alessia watched as Selerael convulsed, cried out in delirium, and then stilled at last; Alessia watched in silence, her feral heart pounding—she wanted to scream and seize her child, to stop what was happening, but there was nothing she could do. Her arms were held to her sides as though held there by iron vices.
Selerael’s skin tone was gradually changing from its normal hue to an odd, striking, impossible color somewhere between sand and the pale pink of a flower petal, one of the many earthen complexions common to the Kiel3 humans; Selerael’s blond hair also dulled to ordinary, unreflective blond that would seem unable to protect her from ultraviolet radiation. Her eyes were wider than some Kiel3 natives, her ears smaller and more pointed perhaps, her limbs a bit longer and her hair stronger, her bones thinner, denser. Nevertheless, Selerael could pass for a Kiel3 native, an unusual-looking Kiel3 native, even under close scrutiny, until the mixture disintegrated.
Staring at her alien-looking daughter, Alessia’s mind was drawn back to the past, back to the precious years she had lived on Kiel3 with Hinev’s immortals, back to the bittersweet recollections of faces she had known long ago on the Great Isle, in Kemet, in Ki-engi, Clas Myrddin, and other countless lives. For a moment, she forgot where she was, what she was, and what she was doing. Reality for her had become surreal.
Alessia felt Ornenkai’s hold go slack.
“Make your farewells, Alessia.” He said, in a low, deliberately steady voice.
She barely acknowledged him but picked up her sleeping child and placed her in the suspension capsule she had brought from Seynorynael, one of the last of its kind, then leaned over quickly to kiss Selerael good-bye as Ornenkai pulled her away. As soon as she pushed down the clear dome roof, a hazy blue cloud of gas filled the capsule, condensing into a gelatinous liquid once it had filled the space within. Selerael’s breathing stopped, but her life signs were normal.
“Don’t forget to make peace with Sargon, even if it means giving him everything he wants for a while.” Ornenkai said, drawing Alessia’s attention. “He can’t be allowed to endanger our mission to thwart the Council. He can’t be allowed to follow me. And don’t even think of trying to destroy yourself. There is still your destiny to fulfill, the destiny I believe in, even if you do not.”
“Do you believe I will forgive you for this?” Alessia asked, but he chose to ignore her.
She did not know how her words lashed at him, until he chose not to feel a thing. Still, he could not stop now. It was far too late for that.
“And now there are a few more things you must do,” he said calmly. “But this is what you’ll tell the others: you sent the ship away on your own to keep it safe fro
m Sargon’s hands.”
Alessia’s head nodded acknowledgment.
“You will make certain that she returns to me, Ornenkai?” Alessia asked again; the totally helpless expression in her eyes reached the bottom of his soul. Yes, he could see it, even though his sight had never been the same since he sacrificed his humanity. He doubted he would ever be able to forget the impression of her face at this moment. She was broken, forever.
“Yes, Alessia, I will.” He told her, a little more kindly. Now he knew she was safe. Even if she had found Hinev’s secret that had granted him his death, she would not end her own life. She would wait and linger on the hope of being with her daughter again. “Go,” he told her, and he watched her to the last.
Alessia left the laboratory and followed the path set for her to rejoin the others on Sesylendae. Gradually, however, Ornenkai’s mind control over her diminished, and though she could not divert from his final program, the memories of the meetings she had been subjected to in the Elder Council Chamber at Ariyalsynai remained. She had broken free at last.
She remembered them all.
Why had Marankeil feared her so? she wondered.
She no longer saw that person in her own reflection.
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 87
