“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Cause I like a bit of drama, sir.”
“You’re an ass. You know that?”
An image window popped up in his HUD. Siv’s face flushed with anger. “I swear if that donkey appears, I will rip you out of the socket and give you over to the cultists in exchange for a can of beans.”
Silky laughed and dismissed the window. “Aw, that’s no fun, sir.”
"Hey, circuit board," Mitsuki said, “you need to check yourself before you—”
“Wreck myself?” Silky laughed hard. “You’ve made my day, Bat Droppings.”
“Talking with your chippy?” Oktara asked. “What does it think about the control module? Can it fix it?”
“Tell him to activate the cloaking device, sir.”
Siv relayed the information. Oktara swept out of the room and headed onto the bridge. A few minutes later he returned with a wistful smile on his face.
“It activated, but turned itself off due to an error after a minute of activity.”
“My chippy says the code for the module has been placed in self-repair mode. It’s essentially closing out and rebooting every routine and cleaning out junk code as it goes. Depending on the extent of the damage, it will take approximately three to five days for the module to achieve complete functionality.”
Oktara nodded. "The ship's AI told me the key problems had been fixed, and things were getting better, but I didn't believe it since the cloak malfunctioned."
“The quad cannons are reliable now,” Siv told him. “Advanced features like cloaking will take the longest to become fully operational.”
“I am forever indebted to you,” Oktara said. “I will provide whatever assistance you need, and I will get you to Titus II. Within reason. I will not unnecessarily jeopardize my crew under any circumstance.”
“Ask him about the genetics module, sir.”
“Should I tell him you can fix it?”
“No! He doesn’t need to know that I can, sir. He needs to think it’s beyond me.”
“Why?”
“Because I think we may need an additional bargaining chip, sir.”
“There is one simple thing you can do for us right away,” Siv said.
“If I’m able,” Oktara replied.
“Exactly who and what are you? And what is the purpose of the two genetics modules on Deck A?”
13
Siv Gendin
Oktara smiled grimly. “I was afraid you’d also discovered the genetic chambers.”
“We also know about the metal containers in the vault in the inner sanctum,” Siv told him. “Though we have no idea what they hold or why you keep them so secret.”
Oktara’s defeated frown, bordering on devastation, made Siv feel bad that they’d brought it up.
“Your chippy and scanning equipment are truly impressive. I never imagined someone would be able to detect any of these things. I was assured by the…source…of this ship that this would never be possible.”
“I’m sure your source didn’t lie to you,” Siv said. “My chippy’s capabilities are unprecedented.”
“I have a freaking name, you know!”
“If Silky, my chippy, knew the purpose of the nonfunctional chamber, he might be able to repair it.”
“Is it safe to blab your name about, Silkster?” Mitsuki asked.
“Is it safe to blab yours?”
Oktara paced over to the screen and tapped on it to bring up a view of space. He stared out for several minutes before speaking.
“I will tell you things only those initiated into our order know, things we have never told an outsider. It should be more than enough to satisfy your curiosity. However, I will not tell you everything. There are some secrets I prefer to keep, some that cannot be bought for any price or favor.”
“We understand,” Mitsuki replied.
Siv thought about his dad. As much as these secrets excited him, he knew Gav would have been a hundred times more intrigued and fascinated. Although he obsessed about the Ancients, the man lived for solving mysteries. It was the fundamental thing his parents, an archeologist and a police detective, had in common.
“Those of us who are fully initiated, like me, are not entirely human,” Oktara said. “I suspect you already know this.”
“We do.”
"We are part human and part other. The human is a host. The other is a benevolent, symbiotic being from a species known as the Moratha. Combined, the host and the symbiote make one new creature, a sum greater than its parts, for the Moratha are eternal and able to impart long lifespans to their hosts.
"However, the hosts have not always been human. The original hosts, the Tlithi, were a more insect-like species, now long extinct from the galaxy. Our homeworld was a lush moon encircling a massive gas giant. At least it was until we were driven away by alien invaders known as the Skrimanta."
“Slap my ass,” Silky said. “I know exactly how they got a ship this advanced.”
“Care to enlighten us?” Siv asked.
“I suspect he’ll get there, sir.”
“As we ranged across the galaxy in exile for more than ten millennia, our numbers shrank,” Oktara continued. “Morathan memories faded, and records were damaged. Surprising as it may seem to you, we even lost the location of our homeworld. Though alive eternally, the Moratha have limited memory spans, such that their past knowledge fades with each new host.”
“I take it they can’t exist for long without a host?” Mitsuki asked.
“Yes, and no,” Oktara said. “They can remain in stasis, awaiting a host, indefinitely, though their personalities and memories will fade as time passes. What they cannot do is act independently.”
“That’s what the containers are for,” Siv said.
Oktara nodded. “Because of the software corruption in our systems, our seventy-eight brothers and sisters aboard this vessel have waited seven decades now for new hosts to appear. And as I’m sure you can imagine, it is not easy to recruit new hosts.”
The cult leader swiped the screen, bringing up a scroll of orange-red gas giants. “We have spent many centuries now searching for our home world. Hoping to return and find the Skrimanta long departed.”
“Is this why you travel to star systems studying gas giants?” Siv asked.
“That is part of it, yes.”
“It seems like it would be easier to use planetary survey data to narrow the possibilities,” Mitsuki said, echoing Siv’s thoughts.
“We used every scrap of data we could find, but to no avail. In the span of ten thousand years, it is possible our world was destroyed or ecologically damaged and is no longer recognizable. The Skrimanta might have devastated our world, leaving it nothing more than a barren husk. And perhaps, like the Ancients, we left no remnants of our civilization behind.
"Regardless, we do not restrict our study only to those Jovian bodies with moons that are potential candidates for our home world, because we respect and worship all the gas giants. Just as our Moratha and Tlithi ancestors worshipped the Jovian body around which their homeworld revolved."
“Have you ever heard of the Shadraa?” Siv asked. “The Ones from Darkness? Perhaps they are the ones who drove you away.”
“I have heard legends,” Oktara said. “But from what we do remember of the Skrimanta, they were in no way like the Shadraa. If what the legends say is true. Naturally, we gather much information on our travels. And legends of ancient starfaring species are obviously of particular interest to us. We are always seeking any scrap of knowledge about our homeworld.”
“There are eleven other Hydrogenist ships, right?” Siv asked.
A mournful sigh escaped Oktara’s lips as he nodded. “And now we face extinction, for none of our ships have functional transfer chambers, save for this one. The Tekk Plague ruined the others permanently, and after an ion storm ravaged our equipment, the software malfunctioned upon rebooting.”
Siv made some guesses and sp
oke them aloud even while Silky was speaking the same conclusions to him. “So the alter box prepares the host, and then the transfer chamber brings human and Moratha together?”
Oktara nodded. “The genetics chamber also maintains the human host’s health and is essential. The Tlithi and Moratha evolved together, and so there was no need for transfer and alteration chambers.”
"How did you come to have human hosts?" Siv asked. He was confident he had guessed the essential part of that answer.
“Twenty-three hundred years ago, a Terran exploratory team responded to a distress beacon and discovered the last few Tlithi, advanced in age and clinging to the brink of extinction amidst a flotilla of derelict ships. They had protected those Moratha remaining as long as they could and had lost all hope.
“Out of generosity and in exchange for the technology we possessed, the knowledge of the galaxy we yet remembered, and information about the Skrimanta, the Benevolence placed the last three Tlithi in stasis while it researched a way to transfer the Moratha into human hosts. Once the process was finalized six centuries later and enough volunteers were gathered, we were gifted twelve highly advanced ships.”
“That was quite the gift,” Siv said. “These ships are practically military vessels.”
“To protect us from extinction along the arduous journeys we would be undertaking.”
Silky spoke through the viewscreen’s speakers. “In exchange for such kingly vessels, the Benevolence asked for more than that, didn’t it?”
“You are Silky, I presume?”
“I am.”
Oktara chuckled. “Not much slips past you, does it?”
“I worked with Empathic Services for forty years,” Silky replied. “I can easily see the value in twelve highly protected vessels roaming the galaxy, crewed by a peaceful people indebted to the Benevolency and thus willing to share any knowledge they gathered along the way.”
“You are correct, of course,” Oktara said. “The Benevolence also looked for our homeworld, but without success.”
“You are indebted to the Benevolence yet you refused to help us in our attempt to help the hyperphasic messiah,” Mitsuki said. “How do you reconcile that?”
“We have the last functional transfer chamber. We have to protect it in the hope that someday someone will be able to fix the operating system’s failure. If I commanded one of the other eleven vessels, I might have risked it. Alas.”
“A restoration of the Benevolence could change everything for you,” Siv said.
“How likely is this girl to survive?” Oktara asked. “Honestly. None of the others have thus far.”
Empress Qaisella Qan had survived, and she ruled the Empire of a Thousand Worlds, but that was not an example that would help make Siv’s case.
“She has certain advantages that those before her did not possess,” Siv said. “And if our mission is successful, she will gain a critical asset none of the others had access to.”
“But it is still an unknown,” Oktara said. “Worry not. I will get you to Titus II, but what I can do for you ends there. I will not further risk my ship and its passengers.”
“We understand, and we are grateful,” Siv said.
“Told you we might need a further bargaining chip, sir. We might need to call on these guys at some point.”
“I would rather not do that, Silkster. The continuance of their entire species is on the line.”
“Silky,” Oktara said, “now that you know their purpose, can you fix the chamber?”
“The transfer chamber suffered extensive firmware and software damage,” Silky replied. “I am still analyzing the damage and working on a solution. I cannot promise you anything.”
“Are you telling the truth, Silkster?”
“Partially, sir. I’m pretty sure I can fix it.”
“In that case, we will wait here while you continue to work. Once you have solved the problem, we can take you to the Titus system.”
“Our mission is time sensitive. Go ahead and take us to Titus II as soon a possible. I can always connect to the Solace and work remotely,” Silky said. “If you are not too far away, I can do this through a direct beam. Otherwise, through the net. Though the former is preferable and far more secure.”
“No. Once you are in the Titus system you will be distracted and in danger,” Oktara said. “Multitasking will make the work take longer, and if you perish…”
“He’s got you by the balls, Silkster.”
“Damn. We could lie, sir. And tell him that it’s not fixable. Meanwhile, I could continue to work on it. And we’d have a bargaining chip still.”
“I think he will know it to be a lie,” Siv said. “He may not be a true empath, but he does seem to sense things.”
“Very well,” Silky said aloud. “I will continue to work and do the best I can.”
“Do it fast, Silkster. Ambassador Vim is likely in tremendous danger.”
14
Galen Vim
Galen woke with a pounding headache and a desperate urge to pee. He sat up stiffly, a twinge of pain running down his spine and deep into his leg where he’d been wounded. He rotated his sore shoulders and straightened his body to work the kinks out of his back. The lumpy, tattered mattress on the metal floor was slowly killing him.
He took a few deep breaths and almost regretted it. There was a greasy, earthy, staleness to the air here, along with a tinge of corroded metal. At least with only a single, faint red light glowing above he didn’t have to see all the grime or the chaos of decorations, cushions, knickknacks, and other pieces of junk. Tamzin practically lived in a salvage yard.
He knew he shouldn’t judge her. He had no room to, coming from a wealthy family and being a Terran Federation ambassador. But he was too exhausted to be the better version of himself.
He didn't understand why she wanted to live in a rundown starship on the verge of cracking open to the toxic environment of an alien planet, that you had to cross through wraith space to get to, rather than renting an apartment in the city like a rational human being. As far as he was concerned, any apartment, no matter how trashy, would have been better than staying in the dilapidated Falling Rain.
He stood using his good leg then put a little weight on his right. Grimacing, he stifled a moan. Tamzin was curled up asleep on the pile of cushions, and he didn't want to wake her.
He took a few faltering steps, the first he’d taken on his own over the last…
He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been here. It was all a blur. And he had no way of finding out, aside from asking Tamzin.
As he limped toward the door, he considered how dependent on his chippy he was for the most basic things. One good thing about being tortured and wounded then sleeping for days, he’d avoided the chippy panic that set in for most people when they had to go more than a few hours without being connected. As it was, he still felt as if a part of himself were missing. He just he wasn’t frantic over it.
Galen reached the doorway and paused. He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to go left or right. Tamzin had helped him to the bathroom the other times. After a few minutes, he guessed and turned right. He followed the corridor, lit by a track of red emergency-power lights on the ceiling.
Along the way, he tested the four doors he passed, two to each side, but all of them were locked. The corridor ended with a few steps that led up to the ship's bridge. The bathroom was the other way. But as long as he was here, he might as well take a quick look.
Grunting, he clambered his way up the steps. A viewport showed a reddish, barren landscape beyond. A giant, yellowish moon loomed on the horizon.
“Took a wrong turn, or decided to explore the ship?” a testy voice asked.
He turned around and tried to smile. It was weird how the red lights always made Tamzin look so sinister. She was practically adorable, if unkempt and punkish, in normal light. Her pink hair wasn’t tied into the topknot, so it was splayed out across her otherwise bald head. She was wearing
only a long shirt, exposing more of her shapely legs than he was comfortable with.
She eyed him carefully, chewing at her lip with one of her fang-like teeth. “I didn’t say you could come up here.”
“What? Oh, sorry. I wasn’t exploring. I need to go to the bathroom, and I couldn’t remember which way it was. Once I got here, I had to take a look.”
She relaxed a little. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother.” She put her shoulder under his arm to take some of the weight off his leg then led him back down the corridor. “It’s this way.”
“You’re not comfortable having me here,” he said.
Tamzin shook her head. “You’re my first guest.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.” She sighed. “Who would I bring here?”
“Friends?”
“I don’t have any.”
“A boyfriend maybe?”
She chuckled. “Boys can’t handle me.”
“A girlfriend?”
“Girls can’t handle me either.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“Mature partners, dumbass. Men. Women. Not boys or girls.”
“Semantics.”
“Are important,” Tamzin replied. “Lovers aren’t. That’s what they make hotel rooms for.”
“Um…okay.”
They stopped in front of a door that was unmarked like all the others. No wonder he hadn’t remembered it.
“Here we are,” she said.
“Why aren’t any of the doors marked?”
“No idea.”
She opened the door, turned on a bright, orange light that flickered slightly, and helped him in. He cringed and turned his head, trying to hide his expression. The bathroom wasn't actually dirty, and it didn't smell, but it looked filthy.
She helped him over to the toilet and stayed there. He waited for her to leave, but she didn’t.
“I thought you needed to go.”
“I do,” he replied.
“Well, get to it.”
Breaking Point Page 9
