Wars

by Alex Deva

  Of course Gaines had been careful not to mention that he’d nearly killed a twelve-year-old girl, or that he had welcomed the unusual crew with a nuclear bomb. His story was suitably altered: that he earnestly took the starship for a Eurasian war device, that he’d done everything by the book, and that nothing could have been expected from a couple of Eurasian savages who lived by ancient savage rules.

  That Mark was a failure to his military, a danger to himself and to others, so insubordinate and troublemaking that his very own British Army had tried to sweep him under the rug that was twentieth century underdeveloped Romania.

  That Aram was an uncouth caveman in the most literal sense, who belonged in the Washington Museum of Natural History and not in a starship.

  And that Doina was a confused young orphan who lacked any sort of adult guidance and who, under any other kind of circumstances at all, would've been a case for the Social Services and definitely not a starship pilot. Or owner. Or whatever she thought she was.

  That their presence and involvement in the Moon War had obviously been the trigger for the coming of Five. That the destruction of the Chinese space station had indirectly, but clearly enough, been their fault. That they obviously had no idea what their starship was capable of. That their illusion of control over it was just that: an illusion, and that the starship ought to be taken apart (by a team of scientists supervised, of course, by the American military) for the evident eventual benefit of all mankind. Via the great United States.

  Most of the American public bit into all this like sharks into a baby seal. Most of everyone else, for lack of balancing information, didn't know what else to believe, and so tended to buy Gaines' story as well. But some of the wiser people understood that, while some truth was artfully blended into it, the story didn't completely reflect the facts. It just didn’t add up.

  Those in conference that day in the small Austrian hotel were among the wise. Not least because they had direct access to Mark — who was sitting right there — as well as to Doina and Aram, but also because one of them, the ESS Monnet commander, colonel Tiessler, had been physically witness to most of the events.

  “I'm afraid I’m not able to tell you much about mister Souček,“ continued Dahlberg, “except that his first name is Karel, he is Czech and what you might call a 'man of the cloth'.“

  “Well, I can,“ intervened Tiessler, from the other screen, before the priest had a chance to open his mouth. “In addition to all that, our mr. Souček is what can only be described as a secret agent of the church police.“

  “Karl,“ said the man, slightly admonishingly.

  “Church police? Is that a thing now? Do you mean inquisition?“ asked Mark.

  “No. Well, yes. Mr Souček here is also a military man.“

  “Karl,“ said the man again. “If I may?“

  Tiessler said nothing. The man spoke again, in a quiet and calm tone:

  “As our friends here already said, mr Greene, my name is Karel Souček and I'm a priest in Olomouc. One of many, I should add. I was indeed in the military, but that was a long time ago. And another thing that I am, which leaves me quite far from war, is a quantum physicist. And no, there's no such thing as church police, or inquisition.“

  “I see. And in which capacity are you here today? Priest, physicist or fighter?“ asked Mark.

  “I am the one who actually called this meeting, erm... may I call you Mark?“

  On the other screen, Tiessler ran his hand over his face. Dahlberg fiddled in her seat. The Brit felt a sudden chill in the air.

  “Apparently the Catholic church isn't quite as popular as I left it, Karel,“ he said.

  “One could say that,“ answered the Czech calmly. “In any case. About a hundred and fifty years ago we decided that science is more useful on our side. Scientific qualifications began to be quite normal among our ranks, and we developed our own research institutes, of which I'll talk in a moment. But first… the story.“

  His image on the screen was replaced by a city square filled with people.

  “It all began with a death,“ he said.

  IV.

  The blue sphere of Earth hung silently in the middle of the room, and the ashen sphere of the Moon half-melted through one of the slightly curved walls. Doina pushed herself up gently and remained floating in midair; with a gesture, she caused the hologram to zoom out so that the Moon fit inside the Control Room.

  Bare-footed in her black uniform, with her shoulder-length hair tied into a simple ponytail, she watched the projection intently, and then zoomed it out even more, until the Moon became a tiny speck, and then the Earth a tinier speck, and then the Sun popped up from the floor like a yellow pumpkin.

  When the Sun itself was small as a walnut, she smiled and pointed at something completely invisible.

  “There's Aram,“ she said.

  “Where?“ asked the woman in a dark blue overall, also barefooted, who stood next to the wall.

  The projection changed at a dizzying speed, bringing up Effo in its search pattern, somewhere far above Neptune.

  “Ew,“ said the woman. “I don't think I could ever get used to that. How do you not get sick?“

  “I don't see it the same as you,“ said the twelve-year-old.

  “Really? How do you see it? And how do you know how we see it?“

  “I don't know how to explain. It's almost as if I see everything at once, from all the angles. And I can feel things. I feel how they bend the space-time.“

  The woman look at her in amazement. “You know about space-time?“

  “Well, I do now. I definitely didn't when I was a kid herding sheep in Bellegrada. Or Alba Iulia, as it's called now.“

  She just described herself as a kid in the past tense, thought the woman.

  “And I know how others see it because Mark and Aram explained it to me.“

  “Ah. Of course.“

  Doina smiled at her.

  “This must seem pretty crazy to you.“

  “It does, yes. But I definitely envy you. A lot.“

  “Really? Because I can command this starship?“

  The woman felt the undertones and eschewed quickly.

  “No, that's not what I meant. Well, I mean, that's pretty extraordinary too, but I wouldn't want to be in your place having to pick sides right now. Even though,“ she added hurriedly, “the Yanks and us are in the same boat these days.“

  “Same starship.“

  “No, it's an old English expression.“

  “I know,“ smiled Doina.

  “See, that is one thing that I envy. I've spent half of my childhood learning English. You learned it in, how much exactly?“

  “About six hours... and I was sleeping the whole time.“

  “Right. There you go.“

  The woman looked at her sideways, and continued neutrally:

  “We could speak Romanian, if you wanted, you know.“

  “Știu,“ answered the girl. “I know. But I'd rather speak English. My Vlachian tongue is not quite like your Romanian. It's changed a lot in the past thirteen centuries.“

  The woman nodded and said nothing.

  Doina turned off the hologram. She rose up high in the middle of the room and did a front flip, ending up exactly in front of her companion.

  “You're trying to find things in common with me, that's why they sent you,“ she stated simply, looking the other in the eyes. “I don't blame you, honestly. But I'm not making any decisions alone on behalf of Doi's crew, and you know that. Still, I appreciate your company and you're welcome to keep trying, captain Toma.“

  The Eurasian officer smiled openly in return.

  “Believe me, there's nowhere else I'd rather be, and there are at least a billion people down there who would give anything to be in my place right now.“

  “For various reasons,“ nodded the twelve-year-old sagely.

  “Does that mean that you approve at least of my reasons?“

  The girl stopped and thoug
ht for a second.

  “I guess so,“ she said, eventually. “I'd probably do the same in your place. Though I have no idea what it's like to be a captain in the JEADF.“

  “It's pronounced gedeff,“ said the captain. “And there's not much to tell. I went to the Academy like every other officer.“

  Doina considered gravely.

  “I've never set foot in any kind of school, in my life,“ she said. “As you can see, I too have reasons to envy you.“

  “Oh, it's not all fun and games,“ said the woman. “But I'll give you that. All things considered, I'd rather go to school than not.“

  “Why did you choose to be a soldier?“

  “I wanted to be a biologist, and the Naval Academy in Prague had the best facilities. And there's a lot of history involved in military studies, which I love as you know.“

  “Me too. As you know.“

  “Come on. Not every little word I say is meant to establish a rapport.“

  The little girl frowned a little, searching for the definition of the word. Her English lexicon, supplied ready-to-use by means of the astounding technology of the starship, comprised tens of thousands of words whose meanings she had to explicitly search in her own brain. The process, once she became aware of it, fascinated the captain, who observed her with interest.

  “Or maybe it is,“ said Doina after a few seconds.

  “But you still don't blame me. When it is.“

  “As I said. I'd probably do the same.“

  Ileana Toma took a deep breath and, feeling that her nausea had subsided, let go of the wall and floated carefully towards the middle of the room.

  “May I?“ she asked, gesturing downwards.

  “Sure,“ answered Doina. “Be my guest.“

  With power of thought alone she spoke to her starship and adjusted the gravity controls just underneath the Romanian captain, who landed gently and flexed her knees.

  “God, it’s good to feel my own weight,“ she said, panting a little. “I haven't been on Earth in months.“

  She jumped up and down a few times, then raised her hands and bent forward and backward at the waist.

  Doina laughed.

  “I'd never left Earth until I was picked up by Doi,“ she said. And I haven't been... what's the word? Planet-side? Since year 1111.“

  “That's a long time to be away.“

  “Well. It's only been a few months. Subjectively.“

  “Subjectively, good word,“ said the woman. “I know. But still. You know you're most welcome on Earth. The people of Alba Iulia would probably carry you from the nearest spaceport all the way to that hill you were with your sheep, thirteen hundred years ago. All you have to do is say the word.“

  “They weren’t even my own sheep. And you know I don't want to leave Doi.“

  “We'd take care of it.“

  “No Ileana, you wouldn't. In fact, you'd probably die fighting for it in my absence.“

  “The Americans made a deal with us. Thanks to you, obviously.“

  “And as soon as I'm separated from this ship, you'll kill each other over me like idiots, deal or no deal.“

  Toma recoiled slightly.

  “Man, that asshole Gaines really ruined your trust in people.“

  Doina looked down, suddenly remembering the American's hands squeezing her throat, and her strength fading away, farther and farther, until there was nothing left but death. She shook involuntarily.

  “Yeah,“ she whispered, touching her throat. “He really did.“

  “He's all over the news, you know.“

  “I don't, actually. I've never seen the news, as you call it.“

  “It's a global information network which relays what's going on, almost in real time.“

  “Is it such a great improvement over our old system of horseback carriers?“

  The captain was stunned for a second. She hadn't really expected the superiority of her twenty-fourth century civilisation to be challenged by someone from the middle ages.

  “Well, yeah, actually I think it is,“ she answered, running her hand through her short dark hair.

  Doina smiled. “Thanks for not agreeing with me just to 'establish a rapport',“ she said.

  “I wouldn't. That's not how trust is created.“

  “And how is trust created?“

  “Did you ever trust anyone? I mean, before you met Mark and Aram?“

  Doina gestured and returned to the floor, as the equivalent of Earth's gravity filled the entire room. She continued the motion fluidly, and sat on the floor, crossing her legs.

  “My mother,“ she said. “And, after she died, a monk who taught me things.“

  The captain looked very interested.

  “Tell me about him. What was his name?“

  “No,“ said the girl. “You tell me. Show me I should trust you.“

  “Tell you what?“

  “What's Mark doing? Why is he on Earth?“

  “Surely he told you? You discussed this before he left?“

  “I know what your superiors told him. I don't know that that's the whole truth.“

  “God, Doina, what’s gonna happen to you when you're older, if you're already like that now? Kids aren't supposed to know what mistrust and suspicion are!“

  “Well, believe me, kids in twelfth century Vlachia knew everything there was to know about mistrust and suspicion.“

  “Won't you tell me about it? Oh... right. Sorry. Well, as far as I know from colonel Tiessler, Mark is in a very secret meeting.“

  “Whatever it is, it's not secret for me.“

  Ileana Toma looked at her and nodded slowly. “You're absolutely right,“ she said. “And I was instructed to tell you everything... if you asked.“

  “I ask.“

  The woman drew a deep breath.

  “Ok. Will you please make me a chair? I need to sit down for this.“

  As she sat down on the semi-soft surface that Doina made appear behind her, she drew another deep breath.

  “It all began with a death,“ she said.

  V.

  “What happened to the boy?“

  “I had a watcher on him,“ answered the alien.

  “What made you think that he was going to do something interesting?“

  “I just had a feeling.“

  “Fletcher Keai. You did not have a feeling.“

  “Call it whatever you want. The important thing is that I was right.“

  “Why, what did he do?“

  “You'll see. In fact, I find myself wishing that I'd followed him, and set the watcher on his mother instead.“

  “But then you wouldn't be in love.“

  “Funny you.“

  The recording started with the same scene from above, as the automated watcher locked on to the running boy at the edge of the clearing, and dutifully followed him as he left. He did not look back; he simply started running, following a path that did not appear to be marked, to a destination that could not be guessed.

  His follower had tried to keep up on horseback, but when the forest became too thick he dismounted and continued the pursuit on foot, screaming after the kid to stop.

  The boy hooked his hand around a tree and made a left; then crossed a ditch and made another left, then a quick right. The half-naked man followed in his footsteps, and when the boy got ready to jump over another ditch, he stopped and aimed his short axe.

  The boy jumped; in the same instant, the man threw his weapon.

  The boy saw and, in an unnatural bending movement, ducked the axe in midair. The bronze weapon found a tree and embedded its edge in it. The warrior screamed a curse and ran again, abandoning the kid for the few seconds it took him to retrieve his axe.

  “Not bad,“ said the voice in the alien's head. “How old is he?“

  “Just over fourteen,“ answered the alien.

  The chase continued, but the boy gave his follower no other chance to throw his axe. Sprinting like a forest animal, he followed a path
that he alone knew.

  “He doesn't seem tired,“ observed the voice.

  And at just that moment, the boy ducked behind a very thick tree. The warrior gripped his axe tight and sneaked around the other side, getting ready for the kill.

  And then, the boy stepped forward and disappeared into thin air.

  The warrior came up yelling, but then stopped in mid-scream. He circled the thick trunk at a careful distance, watching his angles. At first, he assumed that the kid would be chasing him on the other side, and with a few random changes of directions he convinced himself that he was quite alone.

  Bewildered and incredulous, he touched the bark of the old tree and turned to face the same way as the boy, just before he'd disappeared.

  A white ball, as large as a large human fist, appeared flying out of precisely nowhere, and hit him squarely in the chest. It exploded on impact, leaving of the man only his separated legs, the top half of his head, and a thick red spray on the thick trunk behind him.

  The recording stopped, and then the last fourteen seconds played back again.

  Again, the boy ducked behind the tree, breathed in, then stepped forward.

  The playback speed reduced significantly, as first the tip of his left toe, then his left foot, then his left leg simply seemed to vanish. He continued his natural step forward, as if he was passing through a screen.

  “Extraordinary,“ said the voice. “He became invisible.“

  “I'm not sure,“ said the alien. “My watcher records in the entire wave spectrum. He isn't just invisible. He's actually not there. Or at least, not detectably there, by any means at our disposal.“

  “Matter spaceshift?“

  “With what? I couldn't see any beam transporter. I have my three in orbit, but they're all intact and unused. And they don’t work like that, anyway.“

  “Did he disintegrate?“

  “I didn't measure any new energy of any kind. In fact, his own heat vanished with him.“

  “Hum. Was there any atmospheric displacement?“

  “Yes. The entire volume of space that he'd occupied became vacant; it was filled with the surrounding air almost instantly, as expected.“