by S. J. Madill
Pari disappeared, and Irasa's black armour filled her view. Arms slid under Zura's back and behind her knees, and the room swayed as she was lifted up. Strong arms held her close against a black breastplate. She saw the jagged edges of a missing window, and felt the buffeting of the wind. Then a step, and the inside of a shuttle. Even before the shuttle's door closed, Zura could feel them accelerating. A black helmet was looking down at her, no expression on its composite face.
Pari leaned back into view, her worried eyes meeting Zura's. "Stay with us, okay? Don't go anywhere."
Her heart was speeding up again; everything was hazy and fading. She needed to say something. To tell Pari. To tell Yaella. But all she could manage was a weak, gurgling moan.
"I know," said Pari.
The shuttle windows darkened as they left the atmosphere. Zura didn't remember anything after that.
Chapter Twenty
Tal tapped on his datapad's screen. "See? It's doing it again."
Yaella leaned across the central console toward him. "What? The network?"
"Yeah," said Bucky. "The public networks are acting stupid again. They did the same thing a couple days ago, so—"
"Okay," said Tal. "Better now. There it is." He turned the datapad sideways to show her. "See? This is the one. I saw this installation in person."
Yaella stared at the image. At first glance, it looked like a pointless jumble of broken spaceship parts, hanging from threads throughout a room in an art gallery. "Uh huh," she said. "I don't see it. Just looks like a bunch of junk."
"I know, right?" Tal was getting more animated. He always did, when he was talking about art. "That's the point. If you move and see the exhibit from a different angle, like this…"
He slid his fingers across the screen, and the image's point of view changed. From one specific angle in the gallery, the hanging junk formed the shape of a human head. Yaella raised her eyebrows. "Wow. That's pretty cool."
"Isn't it great?" Tal slid his fingers back and forth across the datapad's screen. "There are seven more spots like that. The same pile of junk, but from each place it looks like something different. Oh! Here's another angle." He tilted the datapad back toward her. "See? A bird."
"Wow." It must've taken the artist ages to arrange the bits of junk. Maybe he scanned all the bits into a computer, and then—
Tal called over his shoulder. "Bucky? Lanari? Wanna see?"
"No thanks," said Bucky. "You showed me earlier. It's pretty cool."
Lanari had been leaning against the bulkhead; her white suit creaked as she stepped forward. Yaella was surprised; the Handmaiden never seemed to take an interest in what they did. Apart from the occasional hockey game, apparently.
Lanari put a white-gloved hand on the back of Yaella's pilot's seat as she leaned forward. Yaella watched her flawless alabaster face, and her perfectly-gathered hair. She tried in vain to find a single strand of blue hair that wasn't pulled up into that diamond-tight bun.
"Interesting," said the Handmaiden, an icy tinkle in her voice. "Dedicated effort."
Tal seemed delighted to have caught her interest. "I know, right? I met the artist a few times. A bit intense, but a really nice guy. His next project is a bigger one of these. He said it'll be big enough to climb around in and see additional views from inside."
"I see." Handmaiden Lanari straightened up and took a step back. She pulled a rolled-up datasheet out of a pocket on her leg; it unrolled in her hand.
"Oh?" said Tal hopefully. "You got some art to show?"
"No," she said. Yaella saw Bucky trying to keep his eyes on the screen in front of him, but occasionally looking up at Lanari.
Yaella sighed and leaned her shoulder against the backrest. It was too late for lunch, and too early for supper. There needed to be an additional meal in the middle of the afternoon.
Her eyes wandered back to Lanari. She hadn't moved; she was still staring at the datasheet in her hand. Her blue eyes were scanning back and forth, as if she was reading and re-reading the same message. "Lanari?"
The Handmaiden didn't answer. She calmly rolled up the datasheet and slid it back into the pocket on her leg. Then, without a word, she turned and walked from the cockpit.
"Huh," said Yaella, watching Lanari leave down the passageway. The Handmaiden didn't turn toward the cabins or the galley; instead, she headed aft. "I wonder what that's about."
Bucky swivelled his seat to watch. "No idea."
"You know how it is," said Tal. "The Handmaiden moves in mysterious ways… oh!" He turned the datapad back around. "See? From this angle, it's a ringed planet." He shook his head. "The guy's a genius. Can't dance to save his life, but still—"
The image on Tal's datapad froze, and an error window popped up. "Well, poop," he said, frowning at the screen. "The network farted again."
Out of the corner of her eye, Yaella saw a flicker from the dash. Error windows had popped up on several of the displays.
"Oh, come on," whined Bucky. "Again? What's with the public network today? This is bullshit."
"Is there a big football game or something? You know, a few billion people tuning in to watch the same thing?"
"Nah," said Bucky. He poked tentatively at a few of his displays. "Nothing today. I think we're attached to a shitty node. I should ask for our far-end cells to be moved to different nodes… uh…" A frown darkened his face.
"'Uh'?" asked Yaella. "Is that a 'something is broken' sort of 'uh'?"
"Ooo," said Tal, playing along. "Or is it more of a 'the alien pods are hatching' sort of 'uh'?"
"No," said Bucky, lost in thought. "Not that." He tapped the screen a few times more. His hand went to the hockey puck next to his console, and he fidgeted with it while he waited. "Huh," he said again.
"Oh," said Tal. "Definitely a 'something is broken' sort of—"
"It's not the node," Bucky said as he stood up. "System says it's at our end. I'm gonna go to the engine room and check the comms stuff."
Tal made a face. "Is it really an engine room, though? I mean—"
"Not now, Tal."
Yaella watched Bucky head up the passageway, then turned to Tal. "It's totally an engine room," she said. "It's a room, with an engine in it, so—"
"Fair point," said Tal. He poked at his datapad once more, then dropped it on the centre console. "Oh well. I should be doing pilot things anyway."
"Yeah," said Yaella. She felt like she should be doing something too, but there was little to do while they were at FTL. They were moving, and nothing had fallen off, so—
"Blue?" said Bucky. He came back up the passageway toward them. He had a nervous energy in his steps. Whatever was wrong, it was probably going to be expensive.
"What's broken?" she asked him.
He walked past his seat, instead coming to stand right behind hers. "Look," he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder. "The Tunnel cells are gone."
"What? Did they both burn out, or—"
"No, no, no." He shook his head. "They're gone. Not there. Not in their mountings. Removed."
"Oh, for the love of…" Yaella deflated. Everything had been going so well. They'd all been getting along. Hadn't they? "The three of us were here. Who the hell would've done that?"
Bucky checked the passageway again. "I think someone wants to keep us from calling home."
"Nsal 'neth," she muttered to herself. She'd thought they were all friends. Even the weird Doctor — who she'd been told to steer clear of — wasn't as bad as she'd expected.
Now she was the one glancing up the passageway, hoping that no one was coming. This was exactly the sort of conversation she didn't want to have… "Wait," she said, when she heard her datapad chirp. She twisted in her seat, trying to get the device out of her leg pocket. With its own Tunnel cell, the thing was bulky and barely fit; sometimes she needed to fight with it to get it out. "There," she said, as it came free. A text-only message was waiting.
1515.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Oh, Divines, no!"
"Blue? What's—"
The message was four minutes old. She'd been sitting right here, and had missed it. Missed her mom trying to tell her. Trying to warn her.
"Blue?"
"It's Mom," she said, her voice cracking. "No no no." Tears filled her eyes. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the datapad, typing a response. "She just sent me a message. It's a code. It means…Divines, what does it mean…" She tried to remember the list of numbered codes Mom had sent. "It means a war has started; it's the Temple, and…" Just thinking about it made bile rise in her throat. "…and the Artahel are coming to kill her…" She shook the datapad, staring at the message she'd sent. "Come on, Mom. Read it. Please."
"Oh Jesus," whispered Bucky. "Blue, I'm so sorry…" His white-knuckled hand held her seat's headrest. He and Tal were both watching up the passageway. "What should we do?"
Her tears it hard to see the datapad in her hands. "She always said not to trust the Artahel."
"No," said Bucky. He was trying to sound confident, but his voice gave him away. "Lanari is our friend. She wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't she?" asked Yaella. She didn't want to believe it, either. "Did she take the Tunnel cells? Why would she do that? Why?"
Her fingers were sore from clutching the datapad. She couldn't look away from the message she'd sent to her mother, still unread.
Are you okay? Please call me. I'm scared. I love you.
Tal took a long, deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. He did that when he was trying to calm himself. "Well," he said at last. "We can't fight her. If she's here to kill us, we don't have a chance."
"No," said Bucky. "Don't say that." His hands were shaking, too. "Not her. She wouldn't do that. It doesn't make any sense."
Yaella pulled her eyes away from the datapad, and reached one hand toward the dash. With trembling fingers, she tapped at the screen. She entered her passcode, and accessed the Captain-only screens she never used.
"Blue?" asked Bucky. "What're you doing?"
Yaella wiped her nose with her sleeve. "It says she's in Doctor Munshaw's cabin. With him."
"Oh my god," breathed Bucky. "She isn't—" He shook his head. "No. There's no way."
"Okay," said Tal. His voice was cracking. "Okay. One way or the other, we need to know. We're a bunch of sheep locked in with a wolf, and we need to know what the wolf wants."
Yaella's arms and legs felt rubbery as she climbed out of her seat. Her eyes went back to the datapad in her hand: no new messages, and her own message was still unread. With the network gone she couldn't call Pari, or check the news, or anything. Whatever was going on back home, it might be over already. Maybe it'd soon be over here, too. "No," she said, clearing her throat. "I refuse to believe it. Lanari is our friend. She wouldn't hurt us. We just need to find out what's going on." She tried to sound convincing, but it wasn't working.
She'd hoped that saying it would help her believe it, but it didn't. She couldn't stop thinking about her mother. Were Artahel attacking her? Mom wouldn't just roll over, she'd fight like hell. But then, Yaella had seen the Handmaiden, too: she was so fast, and so nimble… "C'mon," she said, stepping past Bucky, one hand on the wall to steady herself. The two men fell in behind her.
She walked slowly up the passageway, her feet heavy on the deck, thoughts and memories rolling over in her head. Maybe she should trust Lanari. She wanted to. But part of her was screaming at her to get her gun. Trust was good, but trust with a gun was better. Wasn't it?
At the cross-passage, Yaella turned toward Ocean, who was kneeling in his escape pod. As always. "Ocean?"
He opened his eyes. "Captain?" One eyebrow moved. "Something is wrong."
She couldn't hide the quiver in her voice. "A war has started back home. The Palani Temple is trying to take over—"
"And your mother?"
"I don't know."
He nodded, his eyes on hers. "You fear the Handmaiden. You wonder if she is now an enemy."
"I… I don't know, Ocean. But I guess we need to find out."
He stood up, pausing a moment to brush dust from his knees. "Then I will stand with you. Perhaps our journey ends here. Perhaps not."
"Yeah." She couldn't think of what to say. She felt numb. Another look at the datapad: nothing. "C'mon."
Though her legs resisted, Yaella started moving. She turned the corner toward the cabins, the others behind her. No one said a word. Dr. Munshaw's cabin was the last one on the left. She still couldn't decide if she should go to her cabin first and get her gun. And do what with it?
When they were halfway up the passageway, the door to Dr. Munshaw's cabin opened.
Chapter Twenty-One
There were a dozen voices talking at once. At three rows of consoles, tense military officers tried to make sense of what they saw in front of them. Across the front of the room, giant screens showed an ever-changing array of data, maps, and charts, of an emergency situation still in flux.
Ken Amoroso stood behind the rearmost line of consoles, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. With all the voices talking at once, he only picked up snippets of what was being said. He checked the antique mechanical watch on his wrist. Three and a half hours. Catching the attention of a junior rating, he pointed at the empty coffee cup on the console in front of him.
Updated data flashed on the giant screens.
What a god-damned mess.
"Admiral." Next to him, a voice stood out from the murmuring chorus.
"Yes, Comms?"
The lieutenant's voice was hoarse. "Admiral Nichols on Gold Channel Three."
"Got it." He picked up the handset, and touched the console to select the channel.
Admiral Nichols was the naval Chief of Staff, technically his boss. But, in the human-Palani Alliance's integrated chain of command, also technically not his boss. "Hey, Sam."
"Hey Ken. Is now a good time?"
One last scan of the screens at the front of the command centre. "Yeah. We're good. Short version?"
"Please."
"Okay." Ken took a deep breath. "At oh-three-thirty standard time, the Palani Temple launched an attempt to seize control of the Palani government. They started with a largely-successful decapitation operation. Pentarch Balhammis is confirmed dead. Pentarch Yenaara is missing. Mahasa Varta…" he paused. "The Mahasa's in surgery. Seven sector governors, fifteen cabinet members, and a dozen others are all confirmed dead."
"Jesus," said Nichols. "You okay?"
"Yeah. The Mahasa had a minute's advance warning, and she and I had some contingencies ready to go. I came down here with a crew to take command of the sector. Learned the hard way that some staff — all Palani — were sleeper agents for the Temple." He looked over his shoulder, into the glassed-in private room at the back of the command centre. Two bound Palani officers sat in chairs, guarded by armed Marines. Three more lay on the floor, their faces covered. "It was a bit hairy, but we took care of it."
He heard Admiral Nichols's brief whistle through the handset. "Go on."
Ken studied the screens across the front of the room. "The Temple has nominal control of four out of five of the Palani home worlds. I have a feeling that's all they want. Apart from killing senior Palani throughout the Alliance, they aren't showing interest in anything beyond their home worlds."
"Forces?"
"We're got thirty-three frigates for the sector; twenty-eight are available. Of them, half have reported security problems. Two of them are no longer responding at all, so I'm assuming they've joined the rebels. I understand that the Palani Home Fleet is in even worse shape. Current estimates are that two-thirds of their fleet has either gone over to the Temple's side, or their allegiance has yet to be decided. There are reports of gunfights on the bridges of several ships. At least two ships have been destroyed, probably as a result of a fight or sabotage. It's all still developing."
"But your sector has the dreadnought squadron. So—"
"Yeah. One of them
— the Kaha Ranila — is here at New Fraser. They sent down a shuttle to get the Mahasa: shot out a window and plucked her right off the twentieth floor. The other two dreadnoughts are at a secure anchorage. No loyalty issues so far."
At last the coffee arrived, and he took the mug from the junior rating's hand. "We're still waiting to see how a few things turn out."
"Okay, Ken. Got it. So we're starting to get a picture of the two sides in this civil war they've started. Who's in charge?"
For some brown swill vomited out of a machine, the coffee wasn't too bad. "The Temple is getting its orders from Pentarch Ivenna, the head of the Palani religion. Pentarch Fennin is doing whatever she tells him. As for the Palani government forces, no one's really in charge, though it seems like they're listening to the captain of the Kaha Ranila."
"Who's that? Do I know them?"
"Captain Para. He's good. The Mahasa hand-picked him."
"Okay. Next steps?"
Ken exhaled through puffed cheeks. "I've declared this sector to be neutral. These colonies are full of humans, and I don't want them getting caught up in a Palani civil war. So far, the Temple doesn't seem to give a shit about human colonies. I'm mobilizing everything I can, and then we'll wait and see what happens. When it's over, we'll see if the winner still wants to be allies with humanity. That would be a whole other goddamned mess."
There was a moment's silence in the handset.
"Sam? You there?"
"Ken, someone's going to have to take command of the forces loyal to the Palani government. Pull them together. Otherwise they haven't a chance."
"Yeah." He nodded, though Nichols couldn't see it. "I know."
"I'd say you should do it, but a human running the Palani loyalist forces… Any ideas?"
"Nope," said Ken. "Maybe they'll find a junior minister, or one of the surviving sector governors. I don't know. Maybe they'll keep listening to the captain of the Kaha Ranila."
"Okay. Thanks, Ken. At least now I know what to tell the Defence Minister. He's been getting his information from the damn news. Intel was caught napping; how they missed this, I don't know…"
