by M. R. Forbes
"That isn't a great reason. You're biased."
"I ain't biased that you're the best. You've proven that you are."
"I've never flown outside of a vacuum."
"Same thing. Mostly."
"You know it isn't. You can't flip a fighter over in place when you've got friction and gravity."
"Nope. Neither can they."
"So what if I pull it off? What if I can contact them? Then what?"
"We'll tell them what you told Graham and Choi. That the enemy's weapons can damage the armor, and that they need to get their hands on some."
"You don't think they already know that?"
"Nope. They never reported that they did, only that the weapons have some kind of security on them that they can't crack. Hell, if we can get one of those maybe we can crack it ourselves. We've got Mr. Mokri on board, and from what I've heard, he's a regular Einstein."
"Someone would have to land on the planet's surface to pick it up."
"Yup."
Theodore was still looking at him.
"Right," Gabriel said. "Survive the frying pan, jump into the fire. I get it."
"This is about the entire human race."
"I know. It's bigger than both of us. That doesn't make it any less frightening."
"Fear is a gift, Gabe. Fear gives you the edge you need to stay alive."
"Then I must have the sharpest edge around."
"You damn well better. I lost your mother. I don't want to lose you, too."
FIFTY-FOUR
"We're away, General," Gabriel said, increasing thrust to put some distance between the Magellan and Delta Station.
He watched out the viewport as it vanished off the port side and they made their way toward empty space. His conversation with his father had left him equal parts frightened and excited. He had been born to be a warrior. He had been born to fight back against the Dread. When he had been at his lowest, all he had asked for was the chance to do something. Now that he had that chance, he didn't want to waste it.
"Mr. Mokri," Theodore said from his position at the Command Station.
"Yes, sir," Reza said.
"How are those calculations coming along?"
"They were done ten minutes ago, sir. I'm sending the sequence over to the helm now."
"I've got them," Gabriel said. "Setting slipstream sequence."
"Maggie can handle this for you, if you want, Captain," Theodore said.
"No thank you, sir. I prefer to handle it myself."
"As you will."
Gabriel tapped out the commands that would finalize the coordinates. Then he adjusted the throttle, opening up the thrusters. From inside the ship, there was little indication of the change in power or speed. Instead, Gabriel relied on the display to alert him to their current velocity. They had a nice long runway to get the Magellan into the slipstream.
"Sir, I'm getting a ping from Alpha," Spaceman Locke said from her position at the comm station. Gabriel had been pleased when she had entered the bridge with the rest of Graham's picks for duty. "It's General Cave."
Theodore laughed openly. "Put him on the general broadcast."
"Yes, sir."
"Alan. Here to wish us luck?"
"Believe it or not, Teddy, I am," Cave replied. "Whatever you think of me, I'm not your enemy. The Dread are. I want you to succeed, and I want you to bring the Magellan back in one piece. It's the only way any of us survives."
"That's awful gracious of you, Alan. I have every intention of bringing her back. Thank you for your support."
"I'm sorry it had to come to this."
"I'll take it any way it comes," Theodore said. "In your own convoluted way, you saved me from myself. I'll remember that." He used his controls to close the channel.
Gabriel watched the counter continue to climb, the Magellan nearing slip velocity. He tapped his control pad, preparing to activate the quantum phase generator. A silent reverence settled over the bridge as the rest of the assembled crew seemed to realize all at once what it was they were actually about to do.
He looked around the room. Miranda caught his eyes with hers, responding with a smile. Reza nodded to him. Guy and Sarah glowered, but Sarah nodded as well, showing him a hint of respect. The three engineers Graham had chosen huddled over their monitors, keeping a close eye on the systems as they prepared to slip.
Up on the dais, Theodore was leaning forward in his seat, watching space outside with an expression of eager determination. He had waited fifty years to return to Earth. Fifty years to attempt to avenge what the Dread had done.
That wait was nearly over.
Gabriel returned his attention to the display, holding his finger over the control pad. As the indicator hit slip speed, he dropped his finger and set the QPG to work. A sudden deep rumbling rippled through the Magellan before fading away.
"All systems nominal," the Chief Engineer, Technical Sergeant Abdullah said. "Everything looks good."
"Entering slipspace," Gabriel said. He couldn't see the nacelles, but he didn't need to. They bore the same distinctive construction as the wings of each starfighter, and would carry the remainder of the Magellan out of phase and into the slipstream with them. He knew it was happening when the stars began to fade away, and the ship started to shake slightly as it surfed along the edge of the wave.
"What's the ETA, Mr. Mokri?" Theodore asked.
"Seven hours, sir," Reza replied.
"Not bad," Theodore said. "Not bad at all."
Gabriel clutched at his crucifix, closing his eyes. He had never been sure about God, but he figured it couldn't hurt. The ship stopped shaking, and everything went silent and still. He opened his eyes and stared out at the empty black expanse ahead of them.
"Slipstream joined," he said.
They were on their way.
FIFTY-FIVE
"I'm here to retrieve our guest," Donovan said, approaching the woman standing guard in front of the fridge.
Sergeant Wilcox saluted. "Yes, sir," she said, shouldering her rifle and moving to the handle of the large, stainless steel box.
"Thanks, Amanda," Donovan said. He had known Sergeant Wilcox for almost his entire life. Their parents had met up during the escape from Los Angeles and traveled to Mexico together. They had dated for a little while in the past, and she was still the only girl he had ever been with.
"I can't believe you caught an alien," she said, putting her hand on the cool metal. "What are you going to do with it?"
"Number one, I didn't catch her. She came voluntarily. Number two, she's a she, like you are. Not an it."
"She wasn't born. She came out of a tube or whatever as an adult. As far as I'm concerned, that makes it an it."
Donovan was tempted to chide her for being out of line with a superior officer. How dumb would that look? He was the one who had made the conversation casual. "She has breasts and a vagina, and her DNA is one-hundred percent human."
"Are you sure? Have you seen her naked already?"
Donovan shook his head. He wasn't even sure about the DNA part. The military clones were genetically altered. It was more than likely Ehri was, too. As for seeing her naked, he liked to think of himself as a gentleman. That didn't mean he didn't think she was attractive.
She was also the enemy. Whether he trusted her or not, that didn't change. She was confident the bek'hai were going to stomp them to dust, which was why she had helped them in the first place.
"Just open the door, Sergeant," he said, smiling. They had only dated for a little while because she had been too argumentative. It was as if having sex had given her leave to question or counter everything he said from then on, for no other reason than she seemed to enjoy it.
"Yes, sir," Wilcox replied, a hint of amused smugness in her voice. She wanted to get to him, and she had. She pulled the door open.
Ehri was sitting in the back of the fridge on a few sacks of grain they had managed to harvest from a field further up the mountain, and surrounded by a
multitude of long-preserved edibles that had been foraged from anywhere their scouts could find them. She had a pleasant, slightly bored look on her face, which brightened instantly when she saw him.
Donovan stared at her for a moment before speaking. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the story General Rodriguez had told him. Apparently, Ehri was a clone of a woman the General had known. A woman who had not only saved the lives of thousands, but who had also worked incredibly hard to help organize the early resistance. Obviously the Dread had also found value in her genes if they were using her as a template for their scientists.
"Are you okay?" Donovan asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," Ehri said, getting to her feet.
She looked different. Less alien. Donovan realized it was because they had taken her dress and replaced it with whatever surplus they had found to fit her. A simple pink t-shirt that Donovan knew belonged to Diaz, and an old pair of jeans. They had also been kind enough to give her sneakers. He doubted her feet were as used to being bare as his own.
"They are interesting," she said, tugging at the sleeve of the shirt. "Not as soft or as warm as I am accustomed, but I do feel a sense of-" She paused, trying to decide on the word. "Freedom, maybe? I have always appeared the same as the others, and now I don't."
"You look like you were born here," Donovan said.
"I am happy to try to fit in. Subjects do not act the same when they know they are under observation. It takes time for them to forget you are there."
"I thought you haven't studied humans directly before?"
"I haven't. We also do research on the drumhr to measure the integration and ascertain fit."
"What does that mean?"
"Splicing bek'hai genetic code with human genetic code tends to introduce new traits. Those traits are human in some cases, and entirely new in others. We have to monitor these traits to ensure we don't create something we do not want."
"Such as?"
"Earlier alterations produced drumhr who were extremely violent."
"You killed billions of humans. Isn't that violent?"
"No. That is war. By violent, I mean they would attack others with no provocation. They would eviscerate them, decapitate them. There was one case of what you would call rape."
"Are you sure that wasn't too much of the human traits?" Donovan asked. The end of human civilization hadn't only produced rebels. It could be a very dangerous world out there.
"I did not say it wasn't. Either way, it was an unacceptable alteration. This was all before I was made. I know these things from research notes."
"I see. Well, General Rodriguez put me in charge of keeping an eye on you. He's also given me permission to allow you access to most of the base as long as I'm with you."
"What about when you aren't with me?"
"You'll either be in here, or in the nursery."
"The nursery?" She made a face that was both nervous and touched. "You would trust me with your children?"
"They aren't mine. And yes, I do trust you, though not everyone here will or does. I expect you'll get a lot of looks, and you'll probably hear whispers."
"I have studied humans. I expect as much."
"Right. As for the nursery, I'll leave you there when I can't be with you because my mother runs it. She'll keep the others off your back."
Ehri smiled. "Your mother? I should very much like to learn of this kind of familial interaction. The bek'hai no longer have a concept of parenthood, or of children."
Donovan had already guessed that. So had General Rodriguez. They had decided to leave Ehri with Wanda at times for that very reason. The human she was created from, Juliet, had been extremely compassionate and loved children though she had none of her own. And of course, they wanted to win Ehri over to their side. It could lead to her revealing more valuable information than she otherwise would. They hoped that connecting her to the inherent qualities of Juliet St. Martin would be the path of least resistance.
"Good," Donovan said. "I was hoping to give you something you would find of value to your study. In payment for what you gave us."
"You would have figured out the plasma weapon eventually. The bek'hai will never understand the value of natural offspring. It has been lost to them for too many centuries. This learning will be of great benefit."
"I get the feeling you want me to go away and leave you with my mom right now."
Ehri laughed. "I am excited about the prospect, yes. I also enjoy your company, Major."
Donovan felt a twinge in his chest. He pushed it aside. "Right now, I'm to bring you to Doctor Montoya. He's the administrator for our base, and as a former psychologist, he's also a bit of a sociologist himself. He wants to ask you some questions about the bek'hai."
"Yes. Of course. As I said, I will share whatever information I can. I do have two questions."
"What is it?"
"One, are we going to eat soon? I have not had a meal since we met."
Donovan smiled. "Yes. Right after we speak with Doctor Montoya. I haven't eaten in almost two days myself. I'm so used to it; I hadn't even noticed."
"Do you have a shortage of food?"
"No. We have this storage, plus a larger one downstairs where we keep the game we catch. It's cooler down there. We're lucky the ovens still work here. It's because I spend a lot of time out of the base. On missions to transmit our signals mostly, but I've also gone with the scouts on occasion to search for things we can use. What was your other question?"
"Do you have a place to void?"
"Void?"
"A toilet?"
"Oh." Donovan could feel his face turning red. How had he forgotten she would need to relieve herself? Her body was still human. "Of course. I'm sorry."
"I know you are unaccustomed to me, as I am unaccustomed to you. We will each learn from the other, and regardless of when or how the bek'hai destroy your people, we will perhaps change the course of the universe through this understanding."
"I'd rather do it without being destroyed," Donovan said.
"I know, and I am sorry for that. The will of the Domo'dahm cannot be altered by any of us."
Donovan's mind wandered back to the sight of the plasma bolt cutting through the Dread warrior's breastplate. Maybe Ehri's statement wasn't as true as she thought it was?
He was going to do anything he could to make it false.
FIFTY-SIX
Walking Ehri through the halls was as surreal an experience as Donovan had ever experienced. He had expected that she would receive angry stares, comments whispered just loud enough for her to hear, and maybe even an attempt at violence from someone as stupid as Captain Reyes.
He was wrong.
Of course, the people watched her. They stared as he escorted her out of the fridge and through the hallways, first to the bathroom and then to Montoya's office. They kept their eyes glued to her in a curiosity mixed with wonder and some small bit of resentment. The outright hatred wasn't manifest, though. Was it because they had heard about the weapons they had brought back? Had word already spread that she was responsible for helping them escape? Or had General Rodriguez sent his own whispers throughout the base, asking the people to be calm and kind and welcoming because this clone could hold more keys to defeating the Dread than they even understood right now?
Whatever the reason, Donovan was thankful for it. He could tell Ehri was as well. She smiled at the people who looked on her with wonder. Her expression was priceless as she took it all in. And when she saw a young girl run across a hallway in front of her, she nearly had tears in her eyes for the experience.
"What do you think?" Donovan asked as they reached Montoya's office.
"This is everything I ever dreamed of. The videos and photos do not compare. I will be a hero to my peers for the information I am gathering."
"What about the child?"
"Amazing. Beautiful."
Donovan opened the door to Montoya's office. The doctor was sitting behind the desk, leaning back
in his chair with an ancient book cradled in his hands. He set it down carefully before standing at attention.
"Major," Montoya said. He was middle-aged, with a bald head and a pair of old, round glasses resting on a small nose. He was dressed in a worn pair of slacks and collared shirt. "And Ehri, is it?" He circled the desk as they entered, reaching out to shake Ehri's hand and smiling broadly. "I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you. I've studied everything I can about the Dread, but there's so little that we know. Every word you speak will be new information for us."
"Surely not every word, Doctor," Ehri said.
"You speak English so well."
"I speak seven human languages."
"Incredible. Please, both of you, have a seat."
There were two chairs against the wall. Montoya grabbed them and dragged them over.
"You have an hour, Doc," Donovan said. "Ehri hasn't eaten, and neither have I."
"Oh. I can't possibly get through all of my questions in an hour."
"She'll come back."
"Okay. Let me do my best then." He returned to the desk, reaching down and taking a legal pad from a drawer, along with a pencil.
It was low-tech, the best they could manage. There were only three functional computers, and they were needed to maintain the link to the other resistance bases. Anything he wrote now would be transcribed and distributed later.
"Please state your name, age, and place of birth for the records."
"My name is Ehri dur Tuhrik. My physical body is equivalent to that of a twenty-four-year-old human. I was released from the generation chamber seven years ago. My place of birth is the bek'hai mothership."
Doctor Montoya was writing everything down as quickly as he could.
"You say you were released from the generation chamber. Can you describe what a generation chamber is, and how it functions?"
"Of course. The generation chamber is how the bek'hai reproduce. It is what you would call a cloning device. It is essentially a vat of nutrients in which base genetic material is submerged and excited in order to make it grow. A generation chamber produces a fully formed and adult bek'hai in approximately eight weeks."
