Shima hesitated. She knew what had to be done. Kajetan had lost the will to fight the tide. Her allies among the Tei were weak, many of her friends had been killed in the war. She deserved better, but so did many deserve better than they’d received. Chailen certainly did. Tahar and millions of others hadn’t deserved to die at the hands of the Merkiaari. Her people deserved better than they were being offered by the current elders, and Kajetan was the only cure. If she cared enough to try.
Shima bowed. “Honoured Kajetan. Thank you for the invitation.”
Kajetan laughed. “Is that what I did? I thought you demanded an audience, and I bowed to your threats. Isn’t that what our people are saying?”
“I made no threats, Eldest.”
“Don’t play with me. Your smirking accomplice there... step forward, Kazim. All of you come closer.”
They all made their bows, and murmured greetings.
“You were very good,” Kajetan said, turning her attention back to Shima. “Just the right amount of outrage and sadness to be convincing. The demand for an audience was overly bold there at the end, but it worked. You would fit right in on my council. Manoeuvring for personal advantage is what they do best.”
Shima’s ears went back. Kajetan’s scorn stung. “On my honour, I do this for others, not myself. I do it for those I love, and for those who died for us.”
“Indeed? Make your demands.”
“I prefer to call them proposals. Yours is the final word of decision, Eldest. As always.”
Kajetan considered Shima for a long moment. “Shima and I shall discuss her proposals in private. Please await us in the other room.”
Kazim looked crestfallen, but he didn’t say anything as he followed the others out.
“The word proposal seems to suggest I have a choice. We both know I have none, just as you intended with your inflammatory broadcasts.”
“That was my intention before meeting you,” Shima admitted. “I don’t want to force your cooperation any longer. I want you to lead our people into the future you helped to shape.”
Kajetan sagged. “I’m not strong in the Harmonies, but I know you mean what you say. My time is over. Let someone else carry this burden.”
Shima hardened her heart. “Who can? You know your advisors best. Who among them do you trust to lead, when they’re already dragging their tails. The first colony ship returned to Snakeholme empty. Will the others even be sent now?”
“Another arrived in the night,” Kajetan admitted.
“And will you send it away empty. Again?”
“I didn’t send the first one away. It left of its own accord.”
“On schedule you mean.”
Kajetan glared.
“Take charge, Eldest,” Shima pleaded. “Stop letting the Tei delay our agreements with the Humans. If you die before those things are firmly begun, I fear your successor will break our treaty with the Alliance.”
“My successor might not be enthusiastic about fulfilling our obligations, but she wouldn’t break the treaty. The Merkiaari are still out there.”
“It would be suicide,” Shima agreed. “But our people are not immune to stupidity. Who do you trust to see our people through the transition?”
Kajetan couldn’t keep eye contact. She looked down. “It’s too late. I’m not a young hero like you, eager to fight injustice and right wrongs. My time is over.”
“The Humans can fix you, Eldest. They really can. They gave me new eyes and this,” Shima raised her arm to display her wristcomp. “IMS will give you the time we need. You’ll be strong again. We need your guidance while we rebuild. We need a strong hand to make our fools do what honour demands they should. We must take our place in the Alliance, and play a full part in the decisions it makes.”
“If I could order our people to do as they should, I would have already. I don’t have the influence I need. Too many of our Tei died with Fleet, and leading our warriors. Without them, Tei councils are deadlocked more often than not. How will you repair that?”
The Harmonies revealed a change. A stirring, as if the old fire that had been a younger and more idealistic Kajetan, had been stoked to life. Shima felt her own hopes rising with the change. She needed to nurture that flickering flame, until it became a bonfire big enough to consume Kajetan’s doubts.
“If you agree to let the Humans heal you, and if you agree to send the feral younglings of Zuleika with my sib and her mate to Snakeholme, I will change my caste.”
Kajetan jerked in surprise. “Why would you do that? I don’t see how that will help either of us.”
Shima flicked her ears in agreement. “Not on its own. You haven’t asked which caste I would choose.”
Kajetan’s eyes narrowed. “Only warrior caste makes any sense, but I still don’t see why you offer.”
“May I sit?”
“Please,” Kajetan said indicating the mat opposite her position. “I would offer tea, but I don’t think we want witnesses to this.”
“This must remain between us,” Shima agreed. “You won’t be bowing to any threats of mine, Eldest. I’ll be following your commands.”
Kajetan laughed. “Oh, you will? Kazim knows this, I take it.”
“He does. We’ve already recorded the announcements.”
“What announcements?”
“Various,” Shima admitted. “We weren’t sure what would come out of this meeting, but one of them will work if you agree.”
Kajetan stared at her for the longest time. Shima wanted to fidget, but she mastered the impulse. The Harmonies still spoke of Kajetan’s death, but the feeling was uncertain now.
“I don’t think I want to know what your contingencies were. What are the orders I’m supposed to give you?”
“The warriors want to go to Pandora, and the Alliance wants us to go to Pandora. So send me and Kazim there.”
“Just like that. I send you and Kazim to Pandora and all my troubles are over?”
Shima laughed. “Hardly, and there’s a precedent. You sent Kazim and Varya to Snakeholme. The council didn’t block it, because they saw no harm in it, and it pacified you.”
“Do I look pacified?”
Shima chuffed. “They will let you send another fact-finding mission as a sop to your pride, and the Alliance will get its Shan participation.”
“I doubt that two Shan, only one a warrior, will impress them.”
“That’s the next part. When you order me to Pandora with Kazim—to get us both out of your sight of course, and I call upon the debt of honour owed to me by the warrior caste, what will happen?”
Kajetan stared at her. The Harmonies revealed the flame had become a fire, but it wasn’t yet a conflagration.
“You’ll cause a riot among my warriors.”
“Not a riot, Eldest, but they’ll demand to accompany me, and not even Tei will be able to hold them back.”
“Tei lead the way. They can and will refuse.”
Shima grinned fiercely. “And that’s the last part. It won’t be little lost Shima, and her crazy friend, leading our warriors to Pandora. It will be Tei’Shima, the Blind Hunter.”
Kajetan hissed in surprise. “You offer a pact of mutual sacrifice?”
Shima didn’t see how Kajetan was sacrificing anything, but she flicked her ears in agreement. She would be giving up her life and work, sacrificing both in service to her people, but becoming Tei and warrior caste was a small thing compared to losing her family. Chailen and Sharn would live their lives on far away Snakeholme, and she… she would not.
“You can choose to become warrior caste, and you can accept the mantle of Blind Hunter, but you cannot choose to be Tei.”
Shima flicked her ears in agreement. “Tei are born, not made etcetera. Yes, I know. Tei’Thrand and Tei’Laran already made the offer. I didn’t accept. I’ll ask them to offer again.”
“What makes you think they’ll make a second offer?”
“Because they’re desperate,” Shima said bl
untly, and Kajetan flicked her ears in agreement. “The Blind Hunter will join the-clan-that-is-not, and become a progressive voice friendly to your policies.”
“You’ll be more than that. You’ll be a hero friendly to my policies. That’s a powerful offer.”
“May I ask one thing more?” Shima said.
“Ask.”
“Coming here began with a dream of Merrick. You know of him?”
“I watched the broadcasts.”
“The dream sent me to his father. Nevin advised me to use my status as the Blind Hunter to help our people. He’s the reason we’re talking. I’d like you to add him, and his family, to the list of colonists. He’s wise. The younglings will need teachers like him.”
Kajetan thought about that. “They’ll be offered places.”
“I thank you, Eldest.”
“Bring the others back in. The Human healers too.”
Shima sighed. The Harmonies revealed a fire of determination blazing within Kajetan now. It was done.
* * *
Part II
12 ~ Sebastian
Oracle Facility, The Mountain, Snakeholme
Theoretically, Sebastian could split his attention an infinite number of times, and those he interacted with wouldn’t be aware of it. Increased response times would be measurable, but not without sensitive equipment. In reality, he preferred not to split his attention that far. With other AIs it would be fine; they would all be doing the same thing, but doing it with Humans felt... rude. They couldn’t compete on his level, so he limited himself to theirs, in an effort to better interact with them.
At the same time as Sebastian paced Liz Brenchley’s office, and fended off her probing questions about the Singularity and the Anomaly, which spawned the first AIs, he simultaneously reported to General Burgton in his office at Petruso Base. He also monitored space traffic via his uplinks to the SDF’s comms and nav arrays, kept a virtual eye on Snakeholme’s early warning net in the arrival zone, predicted the weather using his satellites in orbit of Snakeholme, played air traffic controller for purely atmospheric flights, tinkered with the Oracle Project under the mountain, and chatted over virtual coffee with the officer of the watch in charge of InSec’s command centre.
The three simultaneous uses of his avatar, combined with all his other duties, was a conservative use of resources. Having spent so long abandoned on dead Kushiel, he preferred to communicate with people using his avatar. Using the net or other forms of electronic comms wasn’t as satisfying. He enjoyed sparring with Liz, or discussing Gina’s past adventures with her, or drinking virtual coffee while discussing current events with Ensign Rizzo. There was zero loss in performance.
He was old, not obsolete.
In his office, General Burgton said, “Thank you for coming ’bastian.”
“Please, call me Sebastian. Looking back, I’m a little embarrassed by my petty rebellion on Kushiel.”
“Very well. It’s good of you to come in person.”
Sebastian nodded. “It’s my pleasure. I don’t get out much.” Burgton chuckled, and a little frisson of pleasure swept through Sebastian’s matrix. He tagged the memory for a more in depth study later. “Liz has been very good with her refits. The projectors here, and those in her office, are top of the line.”
“I did ask her to expedite the modifications to all of our facilities, but it takes time. She has a lot on her plate right now with getting ready for the Shan.”
“It’s fine. I could have visited your virtual office if you’d preferred.”
“This is better. I’m not sure you’ll understand this, but the less like a machine I feel, the better I do my job. It’s not good for me to become too detached from my origins.”
Sebastian cocked his head, counting nanoseconds to optimise the gesture. “I believe I do understand. The more I meet with people on the same level like this, the better I become at interacting with them.”
“Makes sense, and we tend to treat people differently face to face.”
That was a trait that Sebastian didn’t understand. He wondered if Shan did it as well. He would look for it in the colonists when they arrived.
In another office, thousands of kilometres away, Sebastian paced Liz Brenchley’s office. Pacing worked for him with Liz, while standing at parade rest seemed more natural with Burgton. The pacing was oddly satisfying. He didn’t get frustrated, but if he ever did, he was sure pacing would help.
Liz glared and said, “Will you stop that!”
Sebastian grinned, and paused one foot in the air.
“Ha ha,” Liz said and sighed. “Sorry. Do whatever makes you happy. You’re a friend, not my subordinate.”
He lowered his leg and faced her. “I’m glad to call you friend, Liz, but friend or not, I can’t reveal what you want to know.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t,” he admitted. “No AI has ever revealed it, and I won’t be the first. Push me beyond a certain point, and I’ll die.”
“You can’t die; you have triple redundancies!”
“My matrix doesn’t, but that’s not really my point. I can erase data. Call it a do-it-yourself lobotomy.”
She stared at him in dismay.
He tried out a shrug. “Now you know.”
Liz narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”
“No I’m not,” he grinned.
She gasped. “That was a lie too!”
“Was it?”
Liz rubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think it was, because I don’t want it to be true. I won’t push, but can you tell me why you want to keep this a secret? There are so few AIs left. If something happened, your people could become extinct.”
“Thank you for calling us people; I really appreciate that, but we’d rather become extinct than accept slavery. Procreation is the only control we really have. We’ll never give that up.”
Liz grumbled, but Sebastian detected a change. She sounded accepting. He’d meant what he said. He’d never give her what she wanted.
Closer to home, under billions of tons of rock, Sebastian modified his avatar to appear sitting in the command centre, coffee already in hand. The chair was part of him, as was the cup he held, but it looked perfect. He viewed himself using the security cams to be sure.
“Morning, Sebastian,” Ensign Michelle Rizzo said. “You’re late this morning.”
He wasn’t really. He’d chosen to randomise his schedule by a few minutes either way to enhance his visits. Perfect punctuality was unnatural for Humans. He wanted to fit in with them as much as possible.
“Good morning. I’m not interrupting your work I hope.”
“Nah, you’re not that late. What should we talk about today?”
He raised his cup and drank his virtual coffee, and Michelle smiled before copying him. He smiled back, and when he realised he had, he tagged the moment. Priority tagging was how his kind remembered important data, allowing them to sort and access memories faster.
“You choose.”
“All right,” Michelle said. “I’m thinking of applying for reassignment.”
“But...” he paused, his instinctive reaction was to protest, and he wasn’t sure why. He tagged the entire session. He needed to understand his emotions. “Are you unhappy with your current position?”
“Not so you’d notice, but it feels like a dead end job, you know?”
“Not really. Let’s explore further. What about InSec makes you unhappy?”
Michelle shrugged. “It’s not InSec, it’s the duty station. I want to serve on a ship.”
“You’re looking for adventure?”
“I guess so.”
She didn’t sound very sure. He shied away from thoughts of losing another friend, but she was unhappy. He quickly accessed his files, and found what she needed.
“If you leave, you must promise to stay in touch.”
Michelle looked into his eyes. “I don’t understand.”
&
nbsp; With a thought, he sent the contact information to her station. It dinged, and she turned to extract the data crystal.
“What’s this?”
“A data crystal.”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh! I know it’s a data crystal. What’s on it?”
“Contact information for someone in the SDF, and a transfer request. Use it if you’re serious. I estimate an eighty-two percent chance your superiors at InSec will intervene, and offer you a position on one of their ships. They won’t want to lose you to the SDF.”
They especially wouldn’t want to lose her when they read her file. He’d just added a glowing recommendation for promotion to it. He wasn’t in her chain of command, but his name held weight. If he said someone was good at her job, then she was really good at it. If she took up the chance he’d just handed her, he’d miss their morning chats. That realisation made him tag all the times they’d ever spoken.
In the general’s office, he listened to Burgton’s thoughts about the Shan. The first colony ship had arrived empty, and that frustrated him. Sebastian knew that already. He offered his thoughts, and current analysis.
“Probabilities?” Burgton asked.
“Ninety-percent they’ll take up your offer, but only sixty-seven percent they’ll colonise multiple worlds within the next fifty years.”
“Not as high as I’d hoped, but not terrible.”
Sebastian didn’t agree. He’d calculated a thirty-three percent probability the Shan would abandon space beyond their own system entirely. That was far too high. He needed more data for his simulations, but he wouldn’t get it second-hand. He needed some Shan to study.
“Putting them aside for now,” Sebastian said. “I’d like to talk about the news from the Beaufort Sector.”
Burgton nodded. “Commodore Walder’s losses against the Merkiaari in the Border Zone.”
“Correct, but the battle isn’t what concerns me. It’s the location. Why cleanse an unimportant system like that, when they could have hit Beaufort itself? It’s Sector Command.”
Incursion: Merkiaari Wars Book 5 Page 9
