The Osiris Invasion: Book Two of Seeds of a Fallen Empire

by Anne Spackman

  Zhdanov's action signaled the end of the meeting, and immediately the Oceanus Conference Room buzzed with conversation. As people got to their feet and others, stunned by the news, seemed unable to move, Sasha was preoccupied with the immediate need to take Erin home. She glanced around the room but saw only chaos. Richard's training group was lost in the madness of the crowd. Suppressing her own fears, she decided to wait outside for him, and quickly carried Erin out through the congested corridor.

  Chapter Eight

  Ekasi Iriken Zirnenka returned to the bare silver walls of his simple quarters after a long absence. His small, two-room apartment offered relative safety, located far within the spaceship Enlil’s interior, but it lacked the luxury of a viewport relay imager. To an outsider, Iriken’s small quarters might resemble a holding cell. Still, he did not miss the view of surrounding space. He had lately come to despise the sight of the dark twin planetoids that flanked the Enlil on either side. And for reasons of his own, he found the closeness of Enlil’s interior more comforting than oppressive.

  Silence reigned in the uncluttered apartment, as thick as the droning noise of his missing time counter which, like his other belongings, would not arrive from his recent temporary post for another hour. The silence, accented by a slight vibration underfoot from one of the nearby gravity generators, overwhelmed the returning soldier.

  Iriken stumbled forward a few steps and then collapsed exhausted and fully clothed onto the sliding sleeper panel, his arms limp from the shoulder, his head lolling to the side. He blinked as he waited for sleep, thoughtlessly scanning the various objects he had left behind so long ago on his work station. At that moment, his mind savored only the relief of motionlessness.

  The trip across the system to the target planet had taken nearly a month, and another month had passed on the return to Enlil, but the accommodations he had been given on board the Destria class Scorpio Cruiser had not been quite as spacious as these. The Scorpio's destination had been a small, moon-sized blue world, the third planet in the Kiel system, where a race of indigenous humanoids had developed. They called their planet, “Earth”, Iriken later found out.

  Iriken himself had only become aware of their existence on his first raid. Their unit had flown by an artificial raised transit tunnel, likely a civilian shuttle passageway, just as a transport train was passing below, filled with recognizably humanoid passengers.

  How strange these alien humanoids had seemed to him, how different from his own grey-skinned Orian race. Some of them seemed to have no skin pigment at all, and others looked like they had been born of rich, dark soil. However, Iriken had not concerned himself with how and why these human creatures were on Kiel3, unaware of the degree to which his subconscious mind had been fascinated by them. He only knew that if they had been significant to their Leader, they would not have been targeted for destruction. And that the Orians needed this world as a potential new home world. Two weeks of raids and retreats had been executed perfectly and according to plan. What else mattered?

  The air in Iriken's apartment was still. He had never noticed how still the artificially oxygenated atmosphere was in his cockpit on Enlil—as far back as he could remember, he had only considered the air a cocoon surrounding his lungs, protecting him against the vacuum of space.

  But he had found his plane buffeted by winds on Kiel3, the Earth. He had accepted the obstacle the atmospheric currents posed and reassessed his course of action. The presence of wind did not surprise him again.

  Iriken had returned to that blue world seven times, dropping through the white vapors to coastal cities and skirting the edge of the waters with only a brief moment to absorb the beauty of terrestrial wonders he had never seen: waves in the ocean, an indigo sunset, the sound his engines made in the atmosphere.

  Iriken had been born on Enlil, or rather created there by ectogenesis; he had known autotropic life only through the cultivated gardens of the Command Wing and believing all planets to be as ugly and inhospitable as the tiny, perfectly silent, ice-covered spheres on the outskirts of the Kiel system.

  In order to join the mission as a volunteer, Iriken had been compelled to request a temporary squadron assignment. His fellow pilots hesitated to speak to him, uncertain of how to treat him. Iriken was an outsider, one of the elite that ruled them. The truth was that Iriken had never before left his own particular section of Enlil.

  Iriken's entire life had been spent excluded from ordinary Orian children, civilian children born to real mothers and part of true biological families living in the ancient society of their people, trained to fight for the race, yet still living their own lives and making their own choices.

  Iriken had never known his mother; he supposed he had one, but he had never thought of his genetic contributors as parents. He had learned to fly early on when his memories began; but this had been only a rudimentary part of his general education. Iriken had been destined for the greater glories of their society, for he was one of the Orian elite children.

  Like all of the children of the uppermost level of Orian society, a sect comprised of the Great Leader's greatest generals, advisors, and scientists, Iriken was a product of ectogenesis, selectively grown in a feeding capsule until the complete maturation of his vital organs before being transferred to the care of a cultural instructor. Under the instructor's supervision, Iriken's and his "brothers"' and "sisters"' psychological and physical growth had continued until adulthood.

  Each child had been formed with a distinct genetic makeup drawn from the Great Leader's most trusted officials; hardly any were actual clone copies, for the great leader did not care to perpetuate any youthful image that was not his own, or flatter his officials' vanity with identical "clone" children.

  Only the most decorated and loyal common soldiers could earn their way into the hierarchy; most of the elite were created to succeed their predecessors. Artificial reproduction of the elite children had been controlled because the Great Leader hoped to preserve the qualities of his elite hierarchy, surrounding himself with generations of dependable and proven followers.

  Imagine what had been achieved! For the Great Leader Sargon had managed to breed the spark of ambition out of each man in his army! And Iriken, brilliant though he was, didn’t even know he didn’t have ambition, that driving ambition his great leader strangely possessed. At the same time, neither Iriken nor any of the others could mourn the loss of what they never known themselves capable of possessing.

  Iriken and his siblings had nearly reached official adulthood when their instructor had brought news that their future positions had been decided. A tenday later, just a few days before Iriken departed for the third planet, the children of system 165a had been brought before the Great Leader at his request.

  None of them had ever been permitted outside the Command Wing in which they had been indoctrinated, not even to visit the neighboring Command wings of the Upper decks of Enlil. But completion into adulthood meant the beginning of new freedoms and responsibilities.

  Out of respect, Iriken had lowered his head with the others but secretly raised his eyes to watch the discussion in progress between the Great Leader and Garen, his most honored advisor, as the elite children were escorted into the private chambers of the Great Leader Sargon.

  Iriken's surprise at the first sight of his Great Leader, the ancient ruler of his people, had manifested as his feet ground to a halt. Then with a swift kick to his heels, Iriken's favorite sister Erika Zirnenka had saved him from disgrace.

  Sargon had intimidated Iriken in ways he had not expected. The Great Leader did not appear the ancient ruler he should have been. He seemed hardly older than the elite children that had been brought to him.

  Then as the elite children had approached, Iriken got a closer look at the Great Leader's face and realized his miscalculation. Keen eyes turned to regard the young man who, after a brief moment of furious blinking, was forc
ed to look away. Great Leader Sargon then pulled himself upright, a slight smile twisting his lips, his fingers curling and uncurling over the arms of his chair.

  "Well, Garen, have you seen the new arrivals?" Sargon interrupted the man in mid-sentence; Iriken realized he hadn't been listening to the counselor, either. The Great Leader choked off a laugh, and Iriken felt that overwhelming serpentine gaze, capable of driving a weaker mind to panic and despair, fall on him again. "The two of your children in this group have fallen under my consideration."

  "'Consideration' sir?" Garen half stepped aside to survey the group of elite children. A long pause passed before the Great Leader blinked and turned again to his advisor.

  "I have chosen your future successor," he announced in an emotionless voice. Then turning back to the elite children, he continued, riveting his gaze tightly upon Iriken. "Iriken Zirnenka, step forward. Among all the children of Garen, I have chosen you as my future counselor. Upon the death of your father, you will become Garen, my chief advisor."

  The full meaning of this had not fully hit Iriken Zirnenka until after the group had been escorted back to their sector. While the others had set about reviewing their studies, Erika found a seat behind him in the section lounge and lightly tapped him on the shoulder, which was her way of beginning an interrogation.

  "How does it feel to be the child of Garen?" she had asked, half-drawing Iriken out of his reverie. He had been trying to remember his reaction to the Great Leader's sudden announcement but could not recollect anything more than his mouth opening and uttering some random words that had passed for an appropriate response.

  Anyway, there had been too much going on in his head at the time; he had heard another voice inside laughing at him, not quite benevolently, but amusedly, even approvingly.

  And as he had looked up, Iriken had thought the Great Leader's gaze to have lost some of its intensity and harshness, so much that Iriken felt a rare surge of gratitude. He knew not why such an honor had been given him so suddenly, but he determined he would never let the Great Leader down.

  "The rest of us will never know who our genetic contributors are." Erika went on when he kept silent. "Only the positions we will fill. Instructor Menidir was explaining why the Garen is the only hereditary position, but I didn't think you were listening." Erika continued.

  "Hmmm? Oh no, I guess I wasn't." Iriken turned his attention to her, laying aside his reflections for later. There was a lovely crest of a swan pressed into her forehead. She was so beautiful, he thought.

  "They say it’s unwise to know one's genetic contributors." She explained, as if he didn't know, or more likely as though she wished it weren’t true. "Each of our leader's officers can receive no less respect than another. Only our Great Leader deserves our loyalty and admiration.”

  “For saving our people from destruction long ago,” Iriken intoned.

  “Yes,” Erika agreed. “You know, you should be proud, Iriken.”

  “Proud?” He turned to her.

  “Of course.” Erika said. “The Garen is descended from our Great Leader's original advisor, and his line alone may be trusted to counsel the Great Leader.”

  “I know.” Iriken returned, his voice fully aware of the responsibility.

  "I suppose we will have to quit communication once we begin to train for our future assignments." Erika added, after remaining silent a moment. "I should go now to join the others in the labs." She said finally. She moved lightly.

  Iriken looked at her, wishing she didn’t have to leave.

  "Menidir has said that you are to be left to yourself for the rest of the day." She explained, catching his eye, and stood quickly, her maroon sleeves grazing the arms of her chair with a brief rustle. She left without a good-bye.

  As it had turned out, Iriken's new status as future chief advisor had given him the freedom to choose his own experience training. In the course of Menidir's private counsel, Iriken had learned of Enlil’s military excursions to the third planet in the system, where smaller cruisers had been routinely dispatched as part of the Great Leader's plan to bring the planet under his control. All of this was necessary that they might determine if the Orians would take the planet for their own and live there.

  Moreover, the space vessel Enlil had been following had gone missing. A great expense was being made to find that spaceship before any real attempt was made to colonize the Earth. Soon, Sargon would regain the wayward Selesta and its captain, and either conquer the Earth or find another livable planet for the Orian people.

  Determined to prove himself a worthy and knowledgeable advisor, Iriken had quickly volunteered for one of the raids and been granted clearance to accompany a Destria class Scorpio Cruiser to Kiel3. He had not made friends among the pilots, though an unspoken bond of cooperation had permeated their ranks; they had long been comrades. Iriken had begun to see that the pilots' will to serve the leader for the good of their people equaled his own.

  In some ways, the pilots seemed even more devoted to the mission, more knowledgeable about Enlil’s present situation and the reasons why they had come to this yellow-star system. Perhaps it was because they had been involved in the raids for the past few years, or maybe they knew they had more to gain in victory.

  Yet Iriken knew other reasons for the journey to this system, as all the elite children did. He had never really known the past, but his mind had been programmed with memories of a time when their people had lived free, before they had been doomed to the confines of Enlil.

  One of their race was to be brought to justice: a renegade woman named Alessia who had once betrayed the Great Leader. She lived aboard the spaceship Selesta that Enlil had followed to the Earth.

  Chapter Eight

  Zhdanov swirled the bottle around, feeling the weight of the liquid churning within it. He dropped the bottle onto the floor, but it didn't even give him the satisfaction of shattering. Of course, it was made of clear metal—not really glass, though for some reason—it was one of those unexplainable absurdities in the English language—drinking cups were still called glasses. The absurdity of it hit him more now than it normally did, but of course he'd downed far too much of the bottle's contents already; Zhdanov raised his own drinking glass—he was willing to call it anything at present—and poured himself another drink.

  He didn't even hear the door opening.

  "Is that you, Seriyozha?" Head Trainer Arnaud asked, a hint of surprise in his deep voice. Arnaud the giant bear with large grey eyes that never missed a trick. He wasn’t a Head Trainer for nothing; Arnaud was a natural leader among men, strong and tactful, hard when he had to be, but sensitive to the problems around him.

  Zhdanov stayed seated before his darkened window, twisting around to look at the intruder. "Ah, vui-pi, vui-pi!" he called, raising the bottle, having finally recognized Arnaud through eyes bleared with vodka.

  "No thank you," Arnaud waved a hand as Zhdanov reached for another glass under his beverage facilitator. "You look disgusting." Zhdanov ignored him.

  "Arnaud, yak sya maesh?" Zhdanov drawled in Ukrainian now. Arnaud realized with shock that he was drunk.

  "How am I?" Arnaud said, shaking his head. "Well, I'm fine, considering. But I hate seeing you messed up like this," he added, when Zhdanov continued to ignore him. His eyes were critical. "You don't drink, old friend." Arnaud said forcefully, coming over to sit in the chair beside Zhdanov. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a stocky, large-boned frame, dark brown hair and clear grey eyes—they had once belonged to the same old circle of friends.

  "I thought it might help." Zhdanov offered, anything but apologetic.

  "And do you feel better?" Arnaud asked.

  Zhdanov looked up at him, uncomprehending. Then at last, "Much better," he said, tossing back another shot.

 

  * * * * *

  That evening during dinner, a messenger arr
ived with two sealed notices for Sasha Blair and Richard Mathieson from the UESRC's Main Office. Richard had risen to answer the door, carrying the notices back to the table in the family's small kitchen. Nothing was ever delivered by hand, unless there was a possibility of someone else gaining access to secret information via computer. That fact alone gave him cause for concern.

  Without a word, Richard handed one of the messages to Sasha. She put aside her knife and fork to take it, breathed deeply, then tore it open.

  "What's that, Daddy?" Moira asked in a small whisper. She and Erin had also stopped eating their dinner and were watching their parents closely, aware that something unusual was going on.

  "Don't worry," Sasha assured her. "You two just finish your dinner. This is just grown-up stuff. Nothing important." The look that she gave her husband meant that she would discuss it with him later, but it wasn't until two hours later when the girls were in bed that she broached the subject.

  "They've called you in, too?" She asked once they were seated in the living room decorated with children's toys, a pegasus rocking horse, and a bunch of dolls. Richard nodded.

  "I'm to report to the communications room at seven hundred. And you?"

  "Same thing." Sasha replied tiredly, feeling more anxious than she sounded. "What do you suppose they want to see us for?" she asked.

  Richard shrugged. He recalled all of the questions other trainees had fired at him in the moments following Zhdanov's sudden conference, but he just didn't have the answers, not then, not now. His experience hadn't cleared things up; it had only raised more doubts.

  Ever since the first alien ship had crashed, Richard had been a ball of nerves; sleep was getting more and more to be a luxury, though launching himself into providing for the new addition to their family had helped assuage the nagging concerns and frustration in the back of his mind. Nevertheless, all the time he'd had an unshakable feeling that their safety net was wearing thin.