by Mark Wandrey
“Are you going to listen to me?” Jacob gnashed his teeth and quieted. “We’ve entered a new stage of our existence in the Concordian Empire. If our location is not public knowledge by now, it will be shortly. Species are certain to seek us out for our success against the Rasa, both as potential allies and as enemies. We cannot count on protection from the Tog or Beezer any longer. The day may soon come when the opposite is true.
“Fifty specially-trained Chosen is pathetic.” The council grumbled, but Dram remained attentive. “What I propose, many will consider a radical change. First, I think we should create an entirely new branch of Chosen, the military branch. Red stars would be appropriate. The soldier branch will absorb the scouts as a distinct sub-branch. We should alter the Trials to include certain key criteria. I am making those available on the network now. These criteria emphasize physical agility, marksmanship, fearlessness, and aggressiveness. The new Chosen should enjoy all the benefits of being Chosen, but should not be eligible for sideways mobility without special circumstances. The possible exception is Command. We should incorporate the Rasa into this new military-style unit from the ground up. What they lack in technological innovation, they make up for in military tactics and raw tenacity. They can be invaluable in the creation of this new branch, and we can test their loyalty to our cause at the same time. My instincts and my experience with Var’at suggest there is no reason to be concerned about their loyalty, though.”
Jacob laughed and shook his head. “Is that it?”
“Hardly,” she said and continued. His fury was evident. “Second, the shock rifles should not under any circumstances be sold or traded, nor should their secrets be transferred to the Tog.” For the first time, the Concordian masters reacted. Minu didn’t speak their silent language and they chose not to translate their comments. Judging from the furious hand gestures and muted pulses of living light, the conversation appeared quite animated. “Though we are in debt to the Tog under The Law, this invention belongs to us, and we are under no obligation to hand it over or sell it. This new technology gives us a military edge, and if I have any say, it will continue to give us one for many years.
“Third, as you suggested, we should create a science team to continue my research. It should include Dr. Hurt and Bjorn, as well as the best Chosen and civilian scientists. It is not only economically vital to humanity, it is vital to our survival. My research into species who produce new military innovations shows they only have a fifty-fifty chance of surviving their own innovation. Often, the birth pangs of that technology result in the death of the parent. I hope you understand what I’m saying. If a young species invents something ground breaking, other species often destroy them when they try to take that innovation. Concordian species don’t play well with others, especially the higher-order species.” She looked at the head Tog, P’ing, as she said the last part. Hse was staring back at her with hser lidless, almond-shaped eyes.
“Fourth, and this is an add-on to the first, the soldier branch needs its own facilities. These new bases, or forts, should be outside, around every operating portal on Bellatrix. That our portals are either sparsely or not at all defended represents a vital weakness. By constructing defensive and training facilities around the portals, we will be ready to deploy if there is a need for our soldiers off-world. We should bring at least one deactivated portal online, and that portal would be the soldiers’ primary base. I would suggest the old Peninsula Tribe Portal due to its remote location and proximity to available resources.”
Those in the room were silent for a long moment. Minu placed her tablet on the table and waited. Jacob forced a chuckle and finally spoke. “You don’t have much to add, do you?” No one else laughed. Minu had watched the Council carefully as she made her speech, and she had noted a variety of responses to her recommendations, ranging from surprise to shock. Jacob, however, was the only one who looked openly hostile.
“One more thing?” He gave a ‘sure why not?’ gesture. “I request a transfer to the new Soldier branch as soon as it is operable.”
“Well, as the First Among the Chosen, I guess I’ll start by saying ‘no.’”
“To what part?”
“All of it.”
“Fine with me,” Minu said and rose.
“You were not dismissed.”
“I am not looking to be dismissed. If you’re going to completely ignore me, I’m resigning my commission in the Chosen.”
“What? Are you going to be childish because your elders refuse your flights of fancy?”
“Flights of fancy? Creating five groups of partially-trained combat troops and selling off our most valuable defensive tool are flights of fancy. No, that’s not right; it’s fucking idiotic.”
“Now, see here,” one of the Council members yelled.
“No, you see here. I refuse to participate in the train wreck you’re orchestrating.”
“This entire situation is your doing, young lady!” said Jacob, his face stretched in anger. “It began with your overzealous meddling. Now you intend to run away and leave us to clean up your mess.”
“I admit I bear some responsibility. I was young and naive when placed in Command. I didn’t ask for that command. It would have thrilled me to be a member of a scout team; instead, I had to grow and adapt much faster than most. My decisions have been under intense scrutiny since the beginning, by both the Council and our Concordian masters.” She gestured at the Tog. “Repeatedly you have found me to be right and stated I acted appropriately. I never said I would not assist the Chosen. I will be happy to help, but only as a civilian. I won’t subject myself to your petty whims and vagaries if you will not take my guidance. I’ve spent an unbelievable amount of time researching this issue. Please contact me when you decide which civilian function you wish me to fulfill.” She turned and began to leave.
“Are you certain you want to leave the Chosen?” Dram asked. Minu was disappointed to hear how unconcerned he sounded.
She looked over her shoulder at the table full of wide eyes and said, “Completely. If you’re unwilling to see how things really are, I’m unwilling to feed your delusions.” She continued out the door. No one stopped her. As the door closed behind her, she heard the Council yelling recriminations at each other.
She walked to the main rotunda, where civilian workers hammered and welded on the upper levels, repairing the damage from the Rasa assault. When she turned toward her billet, she found Cherise, Gregg, and Aaron sitting in the reception area. They jumped to their feet as she approached. “How’d it go?” they asked, running over each other.
“Looks like I’m a civilian,” she said, her voice surprisingly stress-free. She felt like someone had lifted a weight off her shoulders. The fate of humanity was no longer her responsibility.
“They threw you out?” Gregg asked. Minu chuckled.
“No,” Cherise said, studying Minu’s face and shaking her head regretfully, “she quit.”
“Those idiots,” Aaron growled, “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”
“Don’t bother,” Minu said and headed toward her billet. “Although if you did, you would double their intelligence. Everything will work itself out in the end.”
“What are you going to do now?” Cherise asked.
“I think I’m going to go to school full time,” she said, “maybe get a job.” Maybe have a life, she added to herself. Her friends stayed in the rotunda and watched her walk away. None of them knew what to say.
It wouldn’t take long to pack. The tablet with the chip from her father sat on her desk. As soon as she saw it, she felt guilty. “I’m hoping you can use these files to help the Chosen move away from being professional scavengers to become the soldiers we’re destined to be.”
“Sorry, dad,” she told the computer. She picked up her overnight bag. It wouldn’t be hard to add the few personal possessions she owned. Before she could finish she heard a soft, tentative knock on the door. “Don’t bother trying to talk me out
of it.” The knock came again, so she opened the door. “I’ll give you credit for persis—” A Tog stared at her with huge unblinking almond-shaped eyes. She dropped to her knees. “Concordian master, I apologize.”
“There is no need; rise Chosen.” She stood, her head a full half-meter above her visitor’s. “Your decision to leave our service was hasty.”
“I don’t believe so, Concordian master. If the Chosen do not intend to follow my recommendations, there is little I can do. I won’t be a party to my own species’ suicide.”
“We agree.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
The Tog, ever literal, repeated hser statement word for word.
“So you agree with my recommendations?”
“Completely.”
“So what is to be done?”
“Everything will be done.”
“All my recommendations are being implemented?”
“With one exception.”
“Which one is that?”
“You will not be transferred to the new branch of Soldier.”
“I guess I can live with that. What do you want me to do for you, Concordian master?”
“We want you to lead.” Hse held out one hand with three serpentine fingers. Hse turned it over palm up and unfolded hse fingers. There sat a cluster of three golden stars.
* * * * *
Epilogue
January 22nd, 519 AE
Fort Jovich, Peninsula Tribe Territory
The new fortress was already taking shape, and massive dualloy beams soared a hundred meters over Minu’s head as she walked along the ceramic concrete floor. A dozen civilian contractors followed her, all demanding she listen to their problems. A big raindrop splattered on her shoulder. She looked up at the angry clouds racing across the sky. It would be the third monsoon that week, and the rainy season was still a month away.
“Chosen, you have to give priority to the completion of the new ceramic cement curing facility, or you will never complete your main structural supports in time,” one man finally managed to get out over the loud protests of the others.
“But if my haulers don’t get priority, the remainder of the dualloy braces will not be in place when we erect the supports.”
“And without the third workers’ camp I’m trying to finish, none of these tasks can be staffed.”
Minu sighed; all three made good points. “Okay, I’ll give you ten minutes with my assistant Cherise to work out a compromise. I’m sure we can accommodate all your schedules.”
“I don’t see how!” one of them howled. “Ridiculous,” another said. “The rainy season is about to begin!” the third cried.
She rounded on them. Though she was shorter than all of them by at least twenty centimeters, they stopped in their tracks and took a step back. She held up a warning finger when one tried to talk. “It’s simple. If this structure isn’t weather tight before the first serious storms begin at the end of March, this entire facility will be underwater, or worse, filled with water. If that happens, and we have to begin again next spring, I promise you we will hire off-world contractors who will get the job done on schedule.”
They held a hurried conversation before one spoke for the group. “We will speak with your specialist and figure out a way to make it work.”
“I thought you’d say that,” she said and continued on her way. Minu left the trio in one of the dozens of Concordian-made portable office modules. They were smaller than the ones made on Bellatrix, but they were completely water-tight and had self-contained atmospheres. It sometimes rained so heavily that the air processors on the locally-made modules would flood. Minu navigated a series of trenches that would someday hold power conduits, but now, they were two-meter deep rivers crossed by wooden bridges. She finally reached the east wall of the fortress. The section was nearly complete and held her office. As she reached the door, rain began to pour from the sky. She slammed it closed, already drenched.
“Hey, Boss,” Aaron said from a computer terminal. The command center was full of Chosen and civilians, experts ranging from engineers to construction workers. Dozens of computers hummed, and holotanks showed the fortress in its completed form, as well as various sections under construction. “You having fun dealing with the contractors?”
“Oh, yeah,” Minu scoffed, “nothing but fun.” She dropped into the chair behind her desk and sighed. She wiped water from her long red hair using a towel she kept on hand for the typically terrible weather. Her duty segment should have ended hours earlier, but that was two progress meetings ago. Her computer lit up with messages varying from important to urgent. She saw one from Dram, her boss, and opened it right away. It was a status update on the upcoming Trials. They were about to begin the preliminary written tests for both full Chosen and soldiers. There were over twenty thousand applicants for the first five thousand slots. As she’d suspected, there was a lot of interest in a purely military branch of Chosen. They’d already scheduled five rounds of Trials, each with five thousand candidates. She fully expected two thousand from each group to graduate, and a thousand of those to make it through training. Two years from now, with Fort Jovich in operation, the Chosen would have five thousand fully trained soldiers at its disposal.
Another message updated her on the progress at the new weapons’ factory in Tranquility. Her wonderful little computer-manufacturing micro-factory cranked out a hundred computers each month. They quietly acquired the other parts off-world, or Chosen scouts brought them in from salvage operations. They’d finished a thousand shock rifles, and she expected to arm all the new soldiers by the time they finished training.
A message from Ted and Bjorn showed progress on the personal shields. Ted said there was tantalizing data indicating it was possible to mass-manufacture individual shields. They would be a pale imitation of the ones she and her team had used during the Rasa vendetta—only able to take one direct hit from a beamcaster, or a few dozen flechette rounds—but unlike the devices they were based on, there would be no catastrophic detonation from overload.
She was ready to collapse from fatigue when she saw a message she’d been waiting for. Gregg was back from a junk pile with container after container full of supposedly useless little crab-bots. She already had a score of private companies falling all over themselves trying to get the contracts to modify them. She had plans to integrate the modified little beasts into their military tactics that would greatly increase her combat team’s effectiveness. All in all, only three months after the vendetta, plans were well underway.
“I’m taking two days off,” she announced. Several technicians tried to get her attention, but Aaron deftly intercepted them.
“Let the boss have some down time,” he told them. They dejectedly relented, and she gave Aaron a grateful smile.
“I’ll be in touch via email in the morning. Call if it’s a disaster.”
“Get some rest. Nothing much is going to happen for a few days until the storm burns itself out anyway.”
Minu stumbled down the hall. They’d only partially finished the vehicle bay, but personal transports of all types still crowded it. She climbed into her hot little red aerocar and took off vertically. The weather hammered the car despite its powerful impellers. She gritted her teeth for a tense minute as technology battled nature. Eventually technology won, and she leveled off at ten thousand meters, well above the storm, and set the autopilot for her retreat.
As the car hummed, she yawned and relaxed for the first time in days. She was doing what she’d imagined months earlier, during their desperate fight against the Rasa. The Chosen would have soldiers, and those soldiers would attend her War College. More would follow, all trained to fight the varied Concordian species on their own terms, with human ingenuity. Without realizing it, she drifted off to asleep.
Her car woke her two hours later, in time to land on the island. It was raining lightly at the family cabin. She landed easily on the concrete pad, grabbed the bag she’d put in the car for
the occasion, and ran through the rain into the house. The environmental system she’d installed the previous month sensed her landing, and the cabin was already warm and cozy by the time she came through the door. As she stripped and climbed into the big fluffy bed, a hundred things whirled through her mind. Pip was still on life support. His brain had healed itself, except for the scarring and missing tissue. The doctors said he was sort of conscious, trapped inside, unable to communicate with the outside world. She wondered what kind of personal hell he was suffering through. The Rasa were more valuable than she’d thought possible. Hundreds of them worked on Fort Jovich, even during the monsoons! It turned out they found the driving rain and horrible heat quite comfortable. They were still kept carefully away from civilians; that secret would remain for now. Var’at held the rank of Colonel in the Soldier branch, below only Minu and Dram, but they had yet to solve the issues of his giving orders to humans or using shock rifles.
Minu lay back and sighed, the sheets cool against her flesh. Christian was still missing. They had not yet declared him and his team lost in action. She hoped they were laying low and avoiding trouble. She was too busy most days to think about him. It was only when she was in bed that he came to mind. Was that all he’d meant to her? She couldn’t answer her own question. And, of course, she thought about her father. His files provided endless ideas and guidance. She hadn’t told anyone about them. Somehow that seemed dangerous. She still held out hope he was out there, somewhere in the galaxy, doing who knows what. And the clues in the files remained hidden.
What about the Weavers? She hadn’t meditated at a portal since the day of the vendetta. Minu told herself it was because she’d been too damn busy; the truth was she was too damn scared. The sapphire pendant she wore around her neck was now on an indestructible dualloy chain. It silently spoke of the truth the Weavers were real. The voice in her mind that had led her to the password was theirs. So many questions, so much to do. How will I ever find time? She tried to clear her mind and sleep. She’d have to worry about finding more time when she had more time. For now, she had work to do. Her sleep was remarkably peaceful for someone with a mind so full of turmoil.
