by S. J. Madill
At the back of the bridge, they passed into a room shaped like a small auditorium. Zura made her way to the front, feeling like a teacher in a schoolroom.
Throughout the rows of the auditorium, glittering lights appeared. As Zura watched, the lights coalesced into humanoid forms: four dozen senior officers formed in ranks in front of her.
In the front row she saw Admiral Amoroso, her trusted second-in-command from the Outer Frontier Territories. Near him were generals and admirals, mostly Palani but some human, from the other sectors of Palani space. With them were civilian governors, junior ministers, and senior bureaucrats. Fleet commanders, staff officers, and administrators. According to the holographic display floating in the air in front of her, forty-nine people in all. All of them watching her every move.
She lifted her chin higher and cleared her throat, forcing herself not to wince. "Aasal," she said; she was silently pleased with how strong her voice sounded.
The rows of holograms stood up straight, some shuffling their feet, some snapping to attention like they were on a parade square. "Mahasa," they said, bowing in unison.
She waited a moment for them to become still. Some looked restless; some were strangers to her. A few had been, before today, in junior positions in their respective government departments. They hadn't expected to be thrust into this crisis of someone else's making.
"Ten hours ago," she began, "the Temple, under the leadership of Pentarchs Ivenna and Fennin, launched a series of attacks to seize control of the Palani government. For those of you not in the military, it is called a 'decapitation' attack: an attempt to disrupt an opponent by killing its leadership. It was largely successful. Some of you are here because you are what's left of your local chain of command. You didn't ask for this, and you may feel it isn't fair. It isn't."
She lowered her eyes a moment, to the holographic data floating in front of her. "Pentarch Balhammis is confirmed dead. Pentarch Eve-Anarja is presumed dead, along with the Prophet and the Chosen One. Pentarch Yenaara is missing. In short, the Palani people are without a functioning civilian government."
Zura scanned the audience, her eyes meeting those of Admiral Amoroso in the front row. "Therefore," she said, a tickle in the back of her throat. "As the senior officer available, I am assuming command of all Palani forces. It is my intent to put down the rebellion, then immediately restore civilian government."
She scanned the holographic audience for their reaction. Most of them stood still, either from discipline or from shock. A couple of the junior officials looked like they were about to be unwell. But no one said anything; the room remained silent.
The tickle in her throat was back, and she coughed into her gloved hand before continuing. "The Temple now holds all five of the Home Worlds. A significant portion of the fleet has sided with them; we can expect them to fight with skill and devotion. In addition, the Temple has hired large numbers of mercenaries from McLean-Irvine. Despite the treaty, many of the McLean-Irvine ships have jump drives, giving them an advantage in terms of mobility. I intend to use that advantage against them."
She saw confusion on a few faces, mostly the civilians. Some of the senior military leaders — the generals and admirals — appeared more confident. A few had even begun to smirk. No, she thought. I want confidence, not arrogance.
She cleared her throat again; the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and sinuses.
"All of you, understand this: I intend to avoid civilian casualties where possible. Our people expect us to do what is right. We will when we can, but we may not always have that luxury. We must be prepared to do what is necessary. Do you understand?"
She watched their eyes again. The ones that knew her answered right away; the others followed suit shortly thereafter. She saw doubt, and fear, and anxiety. But no more than she expected. Good enough.
Zura looked down again at the display in front of her. She noticed flecks of glistening blue blood on her glove where she'd coughed into it. No. I don't have time for that.
She raised her eyes to her audience. "I will quickly outline my intentions, then I will answer relevant questions. Then I want the fleet moving; there is a lot of work to do."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Wait," said Yaella. She waved her hands in front of her. "Wait, wait, wait. 'Dillon'? You're Admiral Dillon? From the Borealis?"
He held up a hand. "I'm retired."
"You gotta be shitting me…" She ignored Tal's squeal of excitement. "So… the whole 'Doctor Munshaw' thing?"
"Munshaw is my mother's maiden name."
"And those six doctorates? Being a scientist? All that was bullshit?"
"Honorary doctorates," he admitted. He stood calmly and waited; he seemed to know she wasn't done yet. But her brain had just short-circuited; she couldn't even sputter properly. "Wait…" She gestured into the blazing light of the tunnel, the rotating rings that stretched off into the distance like the inside of a tornado. "So you and this Planet-Killer thing… you've met?"
He nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes. This…" he gestured broadly around, "…is called Niner. She was originally an automated Daltanin defence vessel…"
"Dal-what?"
"She's an AI. She helped Borealis get home."
Yaella stared at him, her hands dropping to her sides. "AI? She?" She looked into the tunnel. "Is she listening?"
The synthesized datapad voice spoke again: it sounded impossibly calm. "Hello, Yaella Varta."
Yaella's mouth hung open. Here they were, in this impossible hall, talking to an intelligent ship eleven kilometres long. She stared into the tunnel and its countless rings of sky-blue light. Everything was eerily silent; there was only the pounding of her heart in her chest, the panting of her breath, and the occasional creaking of her pressure suit. "You know my name? Uh… nice to meet you?"
Dr. Munshaw — Admiral Dillon — pointed to the others in turn. "Niner? Meet Bucky, Tal, Ocean, and Handmaiden Lanari."
Yaella stared at the Admiral. Look at him, she thought. He's in charge now. Calm and confident. Everyone else stood awkwardly, unsure what to do. Bucky and Tal kept looking at her. She needed to regroup, to remember her original purpose. "Okay," she said slowly. "Admiral…"
"Just 'Dillon', will do."
"Sorry. So, the Pentarch Yenaara hired us to…"
Tal held up a hand. "Uh, Chief? Point of order."
She stared at him. "What, Tal?"
Tal pointed at the Admiral, nodding meaningfully.
Was there something she should have figured out? "What, Tal? Someone tell me."
Despite his smile, the Admiral kept a tight hold on his datapad. "I'm Pentarch Yenaara's husband."
Yaella stared at him, heat rising to her cheeks. "Oh," she stammered. "I'm sorry. I should've known that." She looked again at the way he clutched his datapad. "Divines, I'm so sorry. Is she safe?"
"I don't know. I haven't heard from her."
Yaella looked away. She'd done it again: only thinking of her own problems. Too wound up in her moral indignation to think that maybe other people were scared, too. Here was the captain of the legendary Borealis: not some larger-than-life hero from a movie, but a worried old man putting on a brave front. "I hope she's okay," Yaella said quietly. "Really, if there's anything…"
"Thank you," he said, with a slight nod of his head. "But I think you and I both know there's nothing we can do." She saw his eyes go to the Handmaiden for a moment before looking back at her. "How about we continue with the task at hand?"
"Yeah," said Yaella. "Sure."
The giant datapad voice hadn't said anything. Neither had anyone else; they stood bathed in the shifting sky-blue light. This ship was so quiet it was eerie. Nothing this big, with this much power, should be so quiet. There was no hum, no vibration, no grinding of giant gears.
When the Admiral looked into the tunnel, Yaella saw his smile falter. "So," he said, clearing his throat. "Niner. You've, uh, changed a bit."
The voice came from
all around them: it was calm and unhurried. "Yes, Dillon. My mass has increased fivefold. I have accreted the vessels of two hundred and eighteen different species, all of whom attempted to interfere with my activities. You have changed as well: you have lost eleven percent of your mass, and your genetic material has deteriorated."
Yaella saw Dillon make a face. "Thanks, Niner. It's called 'aging'. I don't recommend it."
When the ship didn't answer right away, Yaella raised an eyebrow. How much was it thinking before it spoke? Something this powerful could probably calculate the meaning of life in the time it took a person to collect their thoughts.
"Dillon," it said. "Reuniting with you may further my secondary objectives. When I detected your genetic material on the 'Blue Guardian' vehicle, I decided to use that vehicle's systems to attempt contact with you."
"You did," said Dillon. "You brought down computer networks throughout human and Palani space."
Yaella frowned; something wasn't adding up. "Wait…"
"So, Niner…" Dillon began. He was talking faster, like he was trying to keep anyone else from getting a word in. "Where have you been? It's been what, thirty years? Were you off exploring the galaxy? See a lot of interesting places?"
"Yes, Dillon," said the datapad voice.
Niner began to list some of the systems it had visited. The synthesized voice had trouble pronouncing some of the names, but Yaella wasn't listening. Something still wasn't right. She looked over at Bucky, and saw him staring back at her. Was he was thinking the same thing?
"Wait a minute," she said. "What do you mean, 'genetic material'? A couple of weeks ago, when Niner scanned us and accessed our comms system, Admiral Dillon wasn't on the ship. We hadn't even met."
The Admiral brushed her off with a wave. "Niner," he said. "Where did you go next?"
"Stop it!" said Yaella. It came out louder than she'd expected. There was something she wasn't being told. People were always holding information back, always trying to control who knew what, and it always caused trouble. "Admiral," she said sternly. "I'm sorry, but something here is bullshit."
He smiled. "Perhaps, Captain Yaella… but please let it go."
She gestured toward the giant tunnel of light. "There's no way an AI would get a detail wrong."
Dillon frowned. "Captain…" His voice sounded like a warning.
She wasn't going to be stopped. There was something going on, and she was going to know. "Niner said it detected your DNA on my ship, but it was before we even met you. What the hell does that mean? Did you have something smuggled onto my ship?"
Dillon stared at her a few moments, his white moustache twitching. Finally, his shoulders slumped. "Well, shit," he said. "I'm sorry, Lan."
Yaella frowned. "Sorry? Sorry for what? Who the hell's Lan?"
The Handmaiden turned away, muttering. "Nsal 'neth. Besoth ar enteth-bir."
"I know," sighed the Admiral. "But don't let your mother hear you say that."
Yaella stared at him. "I don't get it." She turned to the Handmaiden. "Lanari? Will someone please tell me what the hell's going on?"
Handmaiden Lanari sighed. For the briefest moment, the alabaster face had a look of defeat. "My mother is the Pentarch Yenaara. My father is…" she nodded at Dillon. "Right here."
Yaella was about to speak, but her thoughts abandoned her. She just stared. "Nsal 'neth."
A stifled laugh broke the awkward silence: Tal's face was bright red, and he giggled as he pointed at Bucky.
Yaella looked back at Lanari. "So… the Pentarch Yenaara sent you because… ?"
There was no expression on the Handmaiden's face. "Captain Yaella, you of all people should know that a mother trusts her daughter."
"But wait…" Yaella stared a moment. "Well, shit," she said, her shoulders drooping.
All eyes turned toward her.
"Pentarch Yenaara and my mom… they both knew a war was coming, didn't they? They sent their families away. They sent us out here, where the Temple couldn't reach us." She looked from Lanari to the Admiral. "And you were both okay with this?"
Dillon slowly shook his head. "No. No, I wasn't okay with it. The three of us…" He glanced at Lanari. "We talked about it. But Niner did ask for me personally; I had to come." His eyes went to his daughter. "Lanari had already travelled with you, so it made sense for her and I to come out here together."
Staring at the endless rotating rings of the blue-lit tunnel, it suddenly seemed different to Yaella. It wasn't just the inner workings of a kilometres-long ship; it was people, and her, and the universe in general: endless wheels, turning with untold purposes. She watched the tunnel's light for a moment, allowing herself to be mesmerized while she tried to think.
"Well," she said at last. "I did my part." She looked at the Admiral. "I got you here." She gestured to the boys standing nearby. "We — all of us — found your 'Planet Killer' and brought you to it. As agreed."
What else was there for her to say? All she could do was focus on her one little piece of the larger machine, and on the parts of it that mattered to her. "So what now?"
Dillon smiled. Maybe he understood. "That's a fair question, Captain." He spoke toward the ceiling. "Niner? You asked me to come and meet you. Here I am. What's going on?"
"Dillon" said the synthesized voice. It never hurried, never changed in inflection or volume or speed. Never gave the least hint of emotion or intent. Just a machine. "Since we last met, I have explored some of this galaxy. I have visited seventy-nine thousand star systems. I have encountered seven hundred and twelve sentient or near-sentient species. I have been searching for my creators, the Daltanin, but I have found no evidence of their presence."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Niner…"
"Instead, Dillon, I have found your people."
"Pardon?" asked Dillon. "My people?"
"Humans," said Niner. "I have catalogued evidence of multiple human and human-adjacent civilizations that evolved independently in this galaxy. Apart from yours and the Palani, only one other such civilisation still exists, though it is in decline. Living with them are Earth-born humans like yourself, as well as Palani—"
"Wait!" said Yaella. "Hybrids! Did you find hybrids?"
"In addition," said Niner. "One of the extinct civilizations is a genetic match for Ocean. One of his people's failed settlements is not far from here."
Yaella's eyes went to Ocean. He looked like he'd been struck, his mouth agape. "My people?" he stammered. "You found them?"
"Wait," said Yaella. She held up a hand to slow things down; there was too much going on. "Niner? Wait. So you found other human-like civilisations in the galaxy? And they're all extinct, except one?"
"Correct."
"That last one… do they call themselves the 'Union'?"
"Yes, Captain Yaella."
Yaella took a shuddering breath. Niner knew where the Union was. It could tell her where to find them. The hybrids would be there. They had to be. She'd never been so close to her goal. "Admiral?"
He raised an eyebrow in response.
"Admiral… the Union has the hybrids. That's where I want to go. And if the remains of Ocean's people are nearby, then…" She trailed and turned to look at Ocean.
He was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up and his face buried in his hands.
"Ocean? You okay?"
When he didn't respond, she walked hesitantly forward and knelt next to him. "Ocean?"
His voice was quiet as he spoke into his hands. "My people…"
"We'll go to them," said Yaella. "We'll go there first, okay?" She hoped that's what he needed to hear. "We'll find out what happened to your people. I promise."
"Yes, Captain," he said, then lifted his face to look at her. She could see the pain written on his face, but there were no tears. "I can't even weep for them," he said; there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "How pathetic."
"You're not pathetic," she whispered. She turned to the others. "Admiral? I don't know what your plans are
, but I'm going to go see this place where Ocean's people went. Then I'm going to go meet the Union."
Dillon had a half-smile that she couldn't figure out. "As it turns out," he said, "I also want to meet the Union. I have business with them."
Yaella frowned. What the hell did that mean? She looked up toward the ceiling. "Niner? If you could tell me where the Union and Ocean's colony are, I could be on my way. I could take the Admiral and the Handmaiden to…"
The datapad voice filled the room. "Dillon."
"Yes, Niner?" replied the Admiral.
"Dillon, I have been searching for my own people. It appears that you, and Captain Yaella, and Ocean, are also searching for your respective peoples. Is the seeking of one's own kind an imperative of biologic life?"
The Admiral thought a moment before responding. "Niner, I think it may be an imperative of all life."
"Dillon, that theory fits available evidence. I propose we co-operate as we did in the past."
"Agreed," said the Admiral. He turned his eyes toward Yaella. "So, Captain… we're all going in the same direction. How about we travel together?"
Yaella nodded. "I'd like that." She stood up, looking toward the ceiling. "Niner? Can you show me where to find Ocean's people, and the Union?"
"Yes, Captain Yaella," said the voice that filled the room. "Navigational data has been added to the datapad you're carrying."
"You can just do that? Okay. So… I want to head to the place where Ocean's people are. Do you want to follow the Blue Guardian, or—"
"Captain Yaella, we are already underway."
"Oh." The sky-blue light in the tunnel hadn't changed. There'd been no sound, no vibration, no hint of anything happening.
She looked at her datapad. On the galactic map, now filled with hundreds more stars, a symbol showed the location of Ocean's people. A time display ticked away the seconds: if she was reading it right, they would arrive in just over two days.
Bucky whistled in appreciation as he came to look over her shoulder. "That's incredible."
