by S. J. Madill
"Four-Thirteen," said Zura. "With the Education Ministry, I hear."
She knew the smile in those eyes; it felt strange to see the rest of the face smiling along with them.
Four-Thirteen bowed deeply. "Aasal, Mahasa. After centuries, we finally meet. It is an honour."
"It is a necessity," said Zura. "One of many we shouldn't have to bear." She motioned for Four-Thirteen to sit as well, but he declined.
Pentarch Yenaara settled into the chair across from Zura, regaining some of her elegance.
Zura pointed at Mwangi. "Colonel, please ask the galley to bring up tea for everyone."
"Yes, Mahasa."
As Mwangi tapped on his datapad, Zura sat quietly and watched her guests. The Pentarch was poised, but seemed uncertain. Mostly, she looked tired, as did Four-Thirteen. Both of them were quiet, watching her. Waiting for her to take the lead. Perhaps they understand: the time for political games is over.
"Mahasa," said Pentarch Yenaara at last. Her voice was a quiet melody. "I am sorry."
Zura nodded. Was she wrong, for wanting the Pentarch to say those words? For this powerful woman to humble herself in front of her? Was it something she needed, to have someone — anyone — accept some responsibility for the ongoing catastrophe?
"I forgive you, Pentarch. You faced a level of deceit and treachery unheard of, even for our people. You did well to escape alive."
"I should have done more," said Pentarch Yenaara. "I was made Pentarch at your recommendation, Mahasa. I feel I have failed you."
Zura shook her head. "Ivenna and Fennin failed us all."
The door chimed and, with a nod from Zura, Colonel Mwangi answered it. Everyone remained still — Zura watching Yenaara — as the Colonel placed a tray of delicate teacups on the low table between them.
Zura put her hands on the arms of her chair and gritted her teeth as she pulled herself forward. The bandage clicked as she picked up a cup and leaned back; it was the loudest thing in the room, and the Pentarch winced when she heard it.
Zura's tired hand trembled, making the teacup rattle. She set it down on the table beside her and sighed. "Honoured Pentarch, I know my place. I'm the last resort. People like me… I exist for when good people are overcome."
"Perhaps so, Mahasa." Even tired, she was a beautiful woman. "The Palani people have always been fortunate to have you."
Zura waved a hand. "People only say that when they need me."
A pained smile from the Pentarch. "I understand, Mahasa. In times of peace, the people try to forget you. Forget how they need, as you say, 'people like you'."
Perhaps the woman did understand her. Perhaps she always had.
Zura sighed, and let her shoulders slump. "I am tired, Pentarch." Just saying it seemed to make it real, like a weight pushing down on her. "I want to be done with this life I've had."
Lines appeared on Yenaara's brow, her perfect eyebrows raised. Surprise, or sympathy, or both.
"I will finish this war," said Zura. "I will fight it my way, and I will win it. I will do what I decide needs to be done, and I will not be questioned about it."
The Pentarch said nothing; she sat quietly, the cup of tea held in her elegant hands.
"Pentarch, I expect you to have a civilian government ready. I will win the war, and then I will hand everything to you. Then I will walk away. This will be my last war. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Mahasa. The Divines know how long you have deserved peace."
Zura scoffed. "No, Pentarch. I don't want the Divines thinking about what anyone deserves. Least of all me."
The Pentarch pursed her lips a moment. "Mahasa, I believe the Divines will look kindly on the sacrifices you've made in your life."
"They haven't so far."
Another pained smile. "Well… in any event, I will have a civilian government — of loyal people — ready to govern when the war is won."
"Good."
"May I ask something, Mahasa?"
The Pentarch was being unexpectedly deferential. Whatever her experience in escaping from the Home Worlds, it appeared to have chastened the proud woman. "You may."
"I would ask, Mahasa: what is your plan to retake the Home Worlds and end the war?"
Zura took a careful sip of tea, then placed the cup back on the side table. "I will continue the raids on Temple assets. It appears to be attriting them and their mercenary hirelings. Then, at a time of my choosing, we will confront them at the Home Worlds. They will surrender, or I will kill them all." She shifted her eyes to the man standing behind the Pentarch. "Four-Thirteen, have you been out of communications all this time?"
"Yes, Mahasa," nodded the agent. It was still strange, seeing a face speaking to her with that familiar voice. "We had to leave everything behind—"
"Then I expect you to immediately re-establish your intelligence network. I want to know the true situation on the Home Worlds; it may determine my timing of events."
"Yes, Mahasa."
Zura turned her eyes back to Yenaara. "Pentarch, I will put you in touch with the governors and administrators who currently report to me. You will work with them, and others known to be loyal, to prepare your new civilian government. But nothing you do will take priority over my military requirements."
"Yes, Mahasa."
"Very well." She took a deep breath and sighed. Four-Thirteen and the Pentarch were both watching her. Neither made a move to leave, or even speak. What in the Divines had happened to them during their escape? Nothing worse than happened to anyone else, I expect.
The only sound in the room was the regular clicking of her bandage as she breathed. "Honoured Pentarch, I am glad you are alive and well," she said quietly. "I suspect you have been through difficult days to get here." But there was one more thing to discuss. "Before you go…"
Yenaara looked up at her.
"Your bond-mate and child are with my daughter. They are headed coreward aboard a dreadnought controlled by an alien AI."
Zura could see the flush in the woman's cheeks. She continued, "I don't blame you for keeping it a secret from me. You wanted to keep them safe." She watched the Pentarch's face; what other secrets still waited to be found? "Honoured Pentarch, tell me more about your bond-mate's mission."
Yenaara's eyes turned away. "Mahasa… I promise it is not relevant to your military activities—"
"I'll decide that." Zura kept her voice calm. Of course the Pentarch was hesitant; she'd been a victim of deceit and distrust like everyone else. The game had gone on for centuries: Pentarchs hiding vital information, even at the cost of lives. Manipulating her by controlling what she knew. But the centuries-old game had to end, and for the first time it was she who held the power. What should she do with it?
Whatever is necessary.
Zura tried to take a deep breath. "Honoured Pentarch, you will tell me why your bond-mate and daughter went to meet the AI-controlled dreadnought. When I am satisfied…" she gestured to the datapad on the table next to her, "…I will call my daughter and ask her to let you speak to your family."
She saw the look in the Pentarch's eyes. A flash of resentment, then resignation. "I understand," said Yenaara. "You are a hard woman, Mahasa."
"I always have been."
A hint of a smile on the Pentarch. "I didn't mean it as an insult." She shook her head. "On the contrary, Mahasa. These are hard times. That makes you the right person at the right time."
"In that case, Pentarch, things could hardly be worse."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Yaella leaned against the galley counter. In one hand she held a half-empty ration pack, unceremoniously stuffing the binva in her mouth with the other. Palani military rations were the best thing ever invented: they eliminated the time-wasting activities of food preparation. Just rip the tab and it cooked itself. When the indicator changed colour, you could tear the bag open and start shovelling. To Pari, cooking and eating was a holistic experience to be savoured. But to Yaella, like her mom, food was f
uel. Just as ships took on fuel and supplies while underway, so did she. She had nothing pressing to do today — they wouldn't be in Union space until tomorrow — but she still begrudged the time it took to stop and eat breakfast.
Poking the last of the binva into her mouth, she kept the packet of tassa wafers and dropped the empty ration pack into the recycler. The wafers weren't the best part of the rations. Mom loved them, but Pari thought they tasted like industrial sealant.
Leaving the galley, she passed by the door to the head, and noticed it was still occupied. The Handmaiden's life had been turned upside down with her departure from the Temple — or maybe it was nearer to say that the Temple had departed from her — but her habits hadn't changed. Twice a day, she still camped in the head for an hour at a time. Normally, the water-supply pipe hummed when someone was having a shower, but right now it was silent. Yaella grinned. Maybe that's how Lanari kept the head so perfectly dry and clean after a shower — she didn't have one. Maybe the 'ritual' was all a sham, and she just locked herself in the head twice a day and read something smutty.
She needed to check in on Ocean. He'd been keeping to himself even more than usual, and she wondered how he was doing after all he'd been through. And what could she do to help? Pari would know; she was good with people. Maybe it would help to be more like Pari. Yaella turned up the short passageway to the starboard escape pod.
Ocean was kneeling just inside the pod, looking like a statue in a shrine. He spent hour after hour just sitting there, alone with his thoughts.
She sat down outside the pod, leaned against the wall, and stretched her legs out across the floor. "Hey," she said. She started opening the packet of tassa. "Want one?"
Kaiser must've heard the crinkling packet, because the sound of claws on the deck announced his arrival. She smiled and held up a wafer; Kaiser reached out and took it — very gently — between his front teeth. "Good boy."
"I don't need to eat," said Ocean beside her.
She turned to him, holding up another wafer. "I know. But that's not what I asked. Do you want one?"
It'd be nice if he breathed a little more often. "I told you, Captain: my machines sustain me. I don't need food."
"Then maybe your machines would like one?"
"No."
She shrugged. "Fair enough," and put the wafer in her mouth. It had a bit of a sweet taste that reminded her of lemon. How could Pari say it tasted like sealant? How often did Pari eat sealant, anyway? Wasn't that the bigger question?
She pulled out another wafer. "Seriously though, how are you doing?"
He sat silent for a moment, staring at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kaiser watching the wafer in her hand.
"I am alive, Captain, such as it is. I understand you took me to that colony planet out of a desire to help me. For that, I am grateful." He was watching the wafer, too. "But it hurt, Captain. It pained me greatly. After so long searching for my people, to find them like that…"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm sorry for that, Ocean. I really am. I should have thought it through."
He shook his head. She could see it in his eyes: the way he was controlling himself. Forcing himself to stay calm. "I wanted to know. I told you I wanted to know. And now I do."
She held out the wafer toward Ocean, but he shook his head. Instead, she turned her wrist the other way, where a furry snout was waiting to take it.
She looked Ocean in the eye for a while. "There was nothing you could have done."
A single speck skittered across his cheek, disappearing down his neck. "No," he said. "I could have done everything."
"Ocean—"
It was like someone had flicked a switch, the way his eyes filled with intensity. "With these machines, I could have done everything. I could have created food out of sand. I could have fixed their ship or built a new one." His eyes flared. "I could have made the planet into a garden. Don't you understand? I could have done anything."
"But—"
He leaned closer; he'd stopped breathing again. "But I was a thousand light years away. Looking in all the wrong places. Wasting time while they suffered and died one by one. Until the last of them was murdered by the Union—"
Yaella waved a placating hand. "You don't know that. All we saw was—"
"What I saw was enough," he said. He leaned back, and took a deep, deliberate breath. "I am at peace with what I saw, Captain."
Yaella couldn't keep her eyebrows from jumping up her forehead. "The hell you are." She ignored his scowl. "When we get to the Union, I don't want there to be a problem. I don't want this to be about revenge."
"It isn't. This is about justice."
"What's the difference?"
He glared at her. "Either you're ignorant, Captain, or you're playing with me. My people — the last of my people — were killed, or enslaved, or both. Whoever did it must be made to pay."
"So… revenge, then."
The hardness in his eyes made her stop. "Are you the arbiter, Captain? Will you decide what justice is? Tell me: what would justice look like for my people?"
She sighed. Of course he was angry. It was difficult to imagine being in his situation; wouldn't she be angry, too? If she were the last of her people, and saw what he'd seen, would she be thinking like he did? Wanting the universe to somehow make things right, or at least make things even? "I'd like to start with understanding. Knowing the facts. Knowing exactly what happened. Maybe it's not what you think." She fished around in the packet for the last wafer; Kaiser followed her every move.
"How about this…" she took out the wafer, "…would you promise to help me find out what happened? Get the facts? Then we can decide what to do."
She saw the lip curl at the corner of his mouth. It was just a twitch, the very beginning of a sneer. "You think this is a game, don't you, Captain?"
"No." She shook her head. "Not at all. I think—"
"I'll play your game then," he said. "Because you have been kind to me, and I am grateful for it. And when your game is done, I will make the Union pay for the crimes they committed."
"If they committed any."
"If, then," Ocean agreed. "I am willing to be convinced, though I am skeptical."
Yaella nodded. "Okay. Thank you." All things considered, it was the best she could hope for. She held out the last wafer. "You sure—"
"No."
"Okay." She broke the wafer in half, giving one half to Kaiser before popping the other half in her mouth. "Thank you, Ocean." She stood up, crumpling the empty packet and stuffing it in her pocket. "I hope we can find out what really happened, because I don't want this to be about revenge. There's been more than enough suffering already, don't you think?"
"We shall see."
She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. So… let me know if you need anything, okay?"
As she headed to her cabin, she could feel Ocean staring at her.
* * *
By the time Yaella got to her cabin and closed the door, anxiety had a hold of her.
When she sat on the bed, Kaiser jumped up beside her and started his pre-nap ritual. She didn't understand why dogs went around in circles like that.
I don't understand Ocean, either. I don't know if I should be scared or not.
She wanted to understand him, or at least to empathize. To imagine what it must be like, going through what he'd gone through. How events in his life made him think and feel. He had a right to be angry — didn't he? — but it still made her nervous. With his machines, he could dissolve the ship at any time. What if he unleashed them in a moment of anger?
A thought came to her, and she picked up a datapad. Not the one she used to talk to Mom — she set that one aside — but an ordinary datapad. Tapping at the screen, she opened a communications window and started a new message.
She frowned. To whom?
"Nobody, I guess," she muttered. Poking a few more times at the screen, she opened a voice channel. She wasn't sure if this would work. "Excuse me,
" she said hesitantly. "Niner?"
The datapad responded in its normal voice. "Yes, Captain Yaella?"
Her brain locked up for a moment. She was having a conversation with her datapad. Except it wasn't her datapad, it was a dreadnought made of scrap, piloted by a computer. "Hey," she said. "I kinda assumed you'd be listening on all channels."
"A reasonable assumption, Captain Yaella."
"Yeah." She looked down at Kaiser, whose eyes were already closed. "So, uh, Niner… I wonder if you could help me with something."
"Yes, Captain Yaella?"
This was already one of the strangest conversations she'd ever had. "Niner, I'm wondering about Ocean's little machines. If you had to… could you shut them off?"
"Yes. I can permanently disable them."
"Oh." She was both happy and unhappy with that answer. Somehow, not knowing had been easier. "What would that do to Ocean himself?"
"He would cease functioning, Captain Yaella."
"So… it'd kill him?"
"That depends on your definition of life."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Fair enough."
"Captain Yaella?"
Now the datapad — the dreadnought — wanted to ask her something. How much weirder could today get? "Yes, Niner?"
"Do you think it necessary to deactivate Ocean's machines at this time?"
She felt a moment of panic. Had she put the idea in Niner's head? "No. I mean, I don't think so. Not right now." She thought about that for a moment. "But I'm worried he might do something rash when we meet the Union. Could you deactivate them if he wasn't… uh… aboard you?"
"I would have to be very close, Captain Yaella. Close enough, I expect, to cause distress for the beings we meet."
"Shit." She thought back to when she'd met Ocean, and when they'd taken him back to his homeworld. "Niner, he said something about the machines being part of a greater whole. The more there are, the smarter they get."
"Yes, Captain Yaella," said her datapad. "Individually, they are not very complex. The number of machines contained within Ocean is modest from a computational perspective. Maintaining the semblance of biologic functions leaves very little processing power for other tasks."
