Rise of the Valkrethi

by Warwick Gibson

  “Yes, that’s definitely the case,” replied Roberto, “but the Druanii may have found a more efficient way of doing things. No one has factored in a sub-space framework supporting a wormhole in normal space, for instance.”

  Andre subsided, still not impressed with the possibility of wormhole travel.

  Roberto activated a 3D animator on the large, central table in front of him. He brought up the image of a long, dragon-like figure they were already familiar with. It moved restlessly within the field of the animator. For a moment it turned its head, so that deep, dark eyes within a halo of sharp scales looked questioningly at them.

  Roberto had taken over investigations into the shape, anatomy and function of the Druanii form as an area of personal interest, in the same way he had previously researched the Rothii. He was fast becoming the research team’s resident expert on the anatomy of alien form and biological function.

  “The original Druanii had limbs,” he said. “I’m fairly certain of that. They managed to build a technological society, and that has to involve something like hands to manipulate the environment with.

  “However, I’ve now unearthed a number of images that show them without limbs. Since the Druanii, like the Invardii, embraced the concept of a hybrid form, they could have changed their DNA so limbs didn’t form at birth. But they didn’t.

  “A close inspection of the images shows the limbs have been surgically removed. Apart from the many questions as to why they might do that, the big question is, how do they now manipulate their environment?” He paused, to let them digest this.

  “In the places where we would expect their limbs to be, we find mechanical inserts. This is nothing more than a small alloy plate and a raised metal dome on the outside. But I’m imagining an insert, flush with the exterior skin, that’s connected to the nerve endings that used to manipulate the limb.

  “Now, this next step is quite a leap of faith,” he warned them.

  “I think the dome sends messages to any machine you want to activate in your environment.

  “Imagine you have a couple of these inserts in your chest, for example, and we’ll let you keep your arms and legs for this demonstration.

  “Er, ladies, you can imagine the same, a little lower down,” he said, after a moment’s thought.

  Celia and Jeneen grinned at his discomfort. For Celia, it did her good to see him as only Human. She had been building him up too much in her mind lately.

  “So, you have a fork full of breakfast in one hand,” continued Roberto, “and a cup in the other, and you want to clean up the preparation area. Part of your mind sends signals through your inserts to the servo-mechanisms in the preparation area to clean up while you finish your meal.

  “You don’t just switch some sort of ‘on’ button, you actually send continuous signals to the servo-mechanisms – as if your ‘hands’ were present and active there – while you enjoy your breakfast.

  “This suggests the Druanii mind has evolved to be more capable of multi-tasking than we are. The inability of the Druanii to communicate in simple language also supports this idea. Their thought processes appear vague and hard to understand to us – especially in their use of language – because they’re doing ten things at once.”

  The research team found this fascinating, but that was as far as Roberto had got. Investigations into what Druanii starships might look like and how they would function, by Andre, had drawn a blank. As had investigations into the Druanii social structure by Sallyanne, who worked with them occasionally.

  When the meeting was over, Roberto followed Celia back to her office. Once they were both inside he tapped the door panel and the door slid shut. Celia overlooked the breach of protocol – in her office she would normally decide what the settings were – and looked up enquiringly.

  “Madam looks tired,” he began sympathetically. “It would appear Madam needs to have some time away from the demands of work. Would Madam care to be squired to the Orchid Room for dinner?”

  “Have you been taking lessons from Andre?” she said with a smile. “Him and his knights and ladies. It usually gets him a clip across the back of the head from Jeneen. I’d question your approach if I were you.”

  “Ah,” said Roberto, pretending to be crestfallen, “to be compared to such a lesser being.”

  Celia had to work hard to suppress a smile.

  “Don’t let Andre hear you say that,” she said sternly.

  She considered his proposal. the Orchid Room was Prometheus’ attempt to provide a more sophisticated eating establishment, and she had to say it was nice. The thought of going there with Roberto didn’t bother her unduly – it was a public place – but what if he wanted to move on to somewhere more private after that. And he did want to be alone with her. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

  Her heart began to race again. Don’t think about it, she told herself desperately. One thing at a time, just deal with what’s in front of you, dammit!

  Once she’d calmed down a little, she accepted his invitation with a brief smile. Then she cut the conversation short, pleading an inundation of work. He suggested a time to meet, and left her office with an ornate Elizabethan flourish. Once he’d left the office she dropped her head into her arms.

  Wouldn’t it be easier just to stay away from men for the rest of her life? She thought. But then part of her refused to keep hiding away for the rest of her born days. It was a coward’s way out. Besides, there was always the possibility of some sort of internal change in her – it was just the upheaval of that change that stopped most people from trying.

  Roberto was prompt. It was 1800 hours exactly when the door to her rooms recognised Roberto as the caller, and announced him. It was very fortunate she was head of her department and had a set of rooms to herself, she thought anxiously.

  She had tried on everything she owned in a frantic attempt to appear formal yet casual, demure yet sexy, and fashionable without being ostentatious. It was an impossible task!

  “Men should never be early,” he said with a smile, when she opened the door. “Being late would have given you more time to get ready, and probably been preferable, but then I would be accused of not really being interested. It’s not easy being a man, is it?”

  She had to agree with him on that one.

  They took their time as they strolled to the Orchid Room. There were wonders all about them, but familiarity with Prometheus had dulled their senses to it. On the way to the large sky dome next to The Orchid Room, they passed a fierce game of raquette in one of the underground caverns. Gravitysum had been shut down in this area, and the teams were capable of reaching the top of the cavern in one prodigious leap, and were airborne for long periods of time in normal play.

  A long observation window in the passageway showed Celia and Roberto the two teams locked in a desperate bid for control of the unpredictable shuttle, which weaved this way and that as its centre of gravity shifted randomly under the influence of the micro-motors inside it.

  “Isn’t that Jeneen?” said Celia, as a platinum blond mane shot past the window in hot pursuit of the shuttle.

  “I think so,” said Roberto with a smile. “Andre must be in there somewhere too. We could take that up, you and I. It would be a good break from research. Get the blood flowing, clear the brain.”

  Celia nodded. His unspoken message was clear. We could do these things if we were a happy and successful couple, like Andre and Jeneen. Suddenly that seemed a daunting task, even impossible, all over again.

  A chill descended on their conversation, but Roberto ignored it. He chatted happily as they made their way to the sky dome. The mood lifted as they looked out at the vast curvature of Neptune, covering half the evening sky above them. A moon rose over Neptune’s horizon. It shone softly in the reflected light from the far-distant Sun.

  Roberto took Celia’s hand, and they gazed in wonder at the sight. The moon had to be Triton, the only moon of any real mass orbiting Neptune, and a similar s
ize to the Moon of Earth. Celia thought appreciatively it was probably that – how much like the Moon Triton was – that made the moment magic.

  Prometheus had been built on Neptune’s second moon, Proteus, a speck of rock by comparison, and the next largest, Nereid, had been completely consumed by mining more than 50 years before.

  Knowing all these scientific facts didn’t deaden the moment, it was still a beautiful image that hung in space before them. Celia squeezed Roberto’s hand.

  Roberto smiled. He wasn’t a ladies’ man, but he knew enough to let the beauty of the evening work on Celia for him. They spent a little more time taking in the vast blue bulk of Neptune beneath them, the small red disc of the Sun so far away, and the pale ghost of Triton on the far horizon, before they came to the Orchid Room.

  The sumptuous entrance to the establishment housed a collection of off-world life forms that had been discovered in the Solar System over the last century, as exploration teams spread out into more and more hostile environments.

  They were looking at strange sulphur crystals that were in many senses alive. There was a form of lichen discovered on the moons of Jupiter. Tube worms that came from volcanic vents in the seas under the frozen surface of one of the outer moons, and complex geodes from Triton that had too much of an organised structure to be inorganic. The geodes has so far defied all attempts to bring them back to ‘life’.

  With their appetites sharpened by the roundabout walk to the restaurant, they turned into the Orchid Room ready to appreciate what it had to offer. A waiter seated them immediately, and they began an enjoyable game of selecting dishes from the menu card.

  Dinner was perfect. The service was unobtrusive, and the music – recorded unfortunately but crystal clear all the same – set a soft background atmosphere.

  At first they ate largely in silence, content enough with the feeling of being together. Then little flutterings of electricity began to build between them.

  “I’ve wanted to put my arms around you for a long time,” said Roberto quietly, half way through dessert.

  Celia looked down intently at her food.

  “I just wanted you to know that,” he continued softly.

  “When I kissed you at the barn dance I said if you wouldn’t go out and find someone for yourself, you’d just have to put up with me.”

  She nodded awkwardly.

  “I did once hope you’d find someone – you’d been such a good friend I really wanted you to be happy – but now I want you for myself. Totally.”

  She nodded again.

  “This isn’t from a sense of pity,” he said in a rush. “I want you for you. I Just thought I should make that clear.”

  “Understood,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry, I haven’t once doubted your enthusiasm for the idea. It’s just . . . my enthusiasm I’m worried about.”

  “You’re not sure you’re interested?” he said, a piece of exotic pie with a name neither of them could pronounce halfway to his mouth.

  “It’s not that,” she said, blushing. She was already thinking about him each day. Thinking about holding him, then imagining slipping her hands under the material of his top – leaving her in no doubt about her reaction to him.

  “I just think it will all go wrong again.”

  “Then we’ll have to make it go right, won’t we,” he said firmly. His commitment to making this happen was very clear in his voice.

  She almost believed him.

  They both lived in the large, central accommodation block, and the walk back was pleasant. It was late in the evening, and they found themselves nodding to acquaintances out on social calls of their own. It was easy to find things to talk about, and scatterings of conversation were interspersed with comfortable silences.

  Work was a fun topic, when you were both up to speed on what was happening. They talked about couples they knew, acknowledging the happiness and commitment of the individuals in them. They carefully avoided any mention of what might be required of them if they were to enjoy the same results.

  Celia noticed that Roberto had steered the two of into the accommodation block through the entrance off the admin area, a rather circuitous route. Then she understood. They would pass her rooms on the way to his.

  CHAPTER 30

  ________________

  It had been a lovely evening, but Celia was beginning to feel nervous again. Then she and Roberto stopped outside her door.

  “I’m not going to ask you to come back to my room tonight,” he said quietly.

  Her heart leaped with relief. Some sort of decision had to be made at some stage, but at least she wouldn’t have to make it tonight.

  She tapped the door commands and turned back to him, expecting a goodnight kiss. The door opened behind her, and Roberto walked her backward into the living room before she knew what he was doing.

  “No,” he said roguishly, “I thought you might be more comfortable in surroundings you know.

  “Lights, half,” he said, and the room controls dimmed the light.

  “Make that 40 percent.” he said, and the lights dimmed further.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you are – when you stop frowning,” he said, covering her face in kisses.

  “No, ah, do I,” she said, trying to get a word in between his kisses.

  Roberto started to unzip the back of her dress, and she froze.

  This was it. A crossroads. A decision that could change her life, if she let it. The warmth of him pressing against her warred with the fear that rose unbidden from the depths of her mind.

  She had to make this a conscious choice, she thought desperately. She couldn’t let the desire and fear she felt in equal parts make decisions for her.

  She forced herself to think. Did she want to be frightened all her life? Wasn’t she worth more than that? Godsdammit, she was worth more than that! As a woman, she had a right to Roberto, and she would claim that right.

  “Hey, stud,” she whispered in his ear.

  “What?” said Roberto, lost at the turn of events.

  “I think I’m over it,” she replied.

  “Over what,” he said cautiously. “Over me? We haven’t done anything to be over yet – have we?” he finished nervously.

  “No, silly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I think I’m over being frightened about the past, frightened about the future, frightened about every damn thing!”

  He’d never heard her swear, but she did at least seem to be swearing for the right reasons.

  “Well, good for you!” he exclaimed, delighted at her breakthrough. He hugged her tighter, until she protested and loosened his arms so she could get some breath back.

  “I’m so pleased,” he said. “Pleased for you that is. I mean, you could have anybody you wanted, well, now you’ve got over this thing.

  “I mean, you don’t just have to go out with me,” he ended lamely, no longer looking happy.

  “You are the worst salesman of their own wares I have ever seen!” she said with a laugh. “Let me dial up some drinks, and change out of this dress. Maybe then we could wash down all that rich food with something. After that we could get just sit on the couch and talk . . . or not,” she said impishly, and brushed past him to close the door.

  Roberto sat in the lounge, thinking the evening had gone better than he had expected – until she came out of the bedroom in a simple nightdress that showed her body off to perfection.

  After that he didn’t have time to do much thinking at all.

  Two days later, and not that far away, Finch stood in the boardroom at the top of the Prometheus admin building and watched the first wave of Javelins depart. The long, modified bodies of the starships contained Valkrethi. This was the first wave of the attack, and it would clear the way for specialist sabotage squadrons to go in and reduce another Invardii shipyard to twisted metal and molten slag.

  He always stood in the boardroom, by himself, when Prometheus went to war. Even when the command to send out their forces
came straight from Cordez, he had to decide for himself whether he agreed. He felt the weight of Prometheus – and its people from many planets, and its various operations – sit heavily on his shoulders tonight.

  Finch had set the overhead dome to show the stars over the base. That way he could, as usual, see the ships and wish them luck as they departed. Next they would pick up speed until they were clear of Neptune, and could start the orscantium decay process in the massive containment chambers in their bellies, and hurl themselves across space as it folded like a paper star chart around them.

  Most of this new generation of pilots called him Commodore, the navy rank just below Cagill’s rank of Air Marshall, though he’d never been given the commission and wasn’t part of the navy. The staff at Prometheus mostly called him Chairman, or Sir. It was only the old guard who now called him Finch. He missed the name, a reminder of happier days with less responsibilities.

  The sabotage squadrons for the Invardii shipyards were leaving Prometheus for the interstellar flight lanes beyond Neptune. There they would hurl themselves across vast spaces to their next target.

  Row upon row of them rose from the exit ports below the horizon of the small moon, and vanished in the distance as they climbed above Neptune. Finch had more than 50 squadrons at his disposal now, over 500 Javelins. Cordez was of the opinion they were going to need every one of them.

  What was the wily Regent up to? wondered Finch. The Regent normally included Finch in his plans, but lately he had been keeping some things to himself. Was the situation so bad he felt he couldn’t burden others with the facts?

  Whatever it was, it was clear Cordez saw something on the horizon that would change everything. It was uncanny how he could do that. It was almost as if he could see into the future.

  Finch’s mind wandered to one of the more pressing problems that lay ahead for Prometheus. The next group of elite pilots had almost completed training for Valkrethi of their own, and the original group of 24 Valkrethi had lost two of their number while boarding Invardii flagships.