The Others Page 9

  You have to…you know what the alternative is…

  Her mind was dark, filled with shadows, the distorted faces of people she’d killed, laughing at her, tormenting her, as she faced the same black fate she’d inflicted on them. They were spies, traitors, she told herself. They’d deserved death. But she knew that was only partially true. She’d killed innocents too, and no small number of them. Guilt and innocence were largely irrelevant concepts in the Union, and suspicion alone was enough to mandate a death sentence. But she had gone beyond even such casual brutality. She’d tortured and killed people to influence others, murdered husbands, wives, children of those who resisted her demands.

  She’d never considered herself evil. She’d simply done what was necessary, to preserve the Union, and to advance her own position. But now that she faced the same end she’d inflicted on so many others, she felt almost as though she was torn in two. Part of her wanted to survive, to find some way to escape. But there was a voice in the depths of her mind, growing in intensity, a dark shout that she deserved death and torture, that her current situation was nothing more than simple justice. Would there be redemption in enduring what she’d inflicted on so many others? She didn’t have the answer, but whatever it was, she knew with grim certainty, she didn’t have the courage.

  She pulled out the knife, the last weapon she had, and she held it in front of her. She paused, wondering with almost absurd detail how to do it. Should she plunge it into her chest? Or cut her own throat? What would be quickest, the least painful. For an instant, her fear ebbed, as the analysis became almost clinical, removed from her in some way.

  Then, reality reasserted its dominance. She held the knife in front of her, the razor-sharp point pressing against her clothing. She increased the pressure, feeling resistance from her jacket. Her arms loosened, and she pulled the knife away, her other hand moving about the jacket, slipping the garment off. Then she pulled at her shirt, tugging at the material, exposing the flesh below. She pressed the knife against her again, and she recoiled at the coolness of the blade on her skin.

  Do it…do it now…

  He thoughts battled inside her, waging a war in her head, her rational mind pushing her to finish things, to escape the terrible torment that awaited her. But the fear pressed back, the will to live struggling to hold her hand, to keep the blade back…to live, even if only for a few more minutes.

  There’s no other way. You know what will happen if they catch you…

  She could feel her teeth grinding, her body wracked by chills, even as the sweat poured down her back in torrents. Pain, too, as a fleeting bit of courage gave her the strength to push hard enough on the blade to draw blood. But she couldn’t finish, couldn’t bring herself to make that last push.

  She felt stark panic at what would happen to her if she was captured…but she couldn’t kill herself, at least not with only a simple blade. She had to do something, find a way to escape. She didn’t know how that was possible, or who could help her, but she had to try.

  Who would even help her? Whatever allies she had were either dead—or in Sector Nine cells—or they were doing everything possible to distance themselves from her and her planned coup. She had used people her entire life, done terrible things to gain power and position. She had no friends, no real relationships. No one would help her when she had nothing to offer in return.

  She stood for a moment, her mind grasping for something, anything. Then, a single thought materialized.

  No, why would he help you? You used him, just as you have everyone else.

  Alexander Kerevsky had been an asset, certainly, but as she stood there, fighting off the panic trying to take control, she realized there had been something more there.

  But you used him anyway. Why would he care? Why would he risk himself to save you?

  She was shaking her head, trying to push the idea away. Kerevsky was just one more acquaintance else she’d mistreated, a tool that had served a purpose.

  But he was something more. There had been a connection there. She had felt it, and she suspected he had, too. It was tenuous, a sparse and frayed hope that the Confederation ambassador would—could—help her.

  But there was no point in deeper analysis of whether Kerevsky would help. He was her only option. And through her fear, the blind panic gradually turning her intellect to pure instinct, she realized the alley where she stood led to the Confederation embassy, or close to it.

  This is stupid. He won’t help you, and even if he wanted to, what could he do?

  It didn’t make sense, it was pointless. She tried again to bring the knife to her chest, to gather the strength for one final thrust. But it just wasn’t there.

  Kerevsky was all she had…assuming she could even get to him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Planet Calpharon

  Sigma Nordlin IV

  Year of Renewal 267 (322 AC)

  “I am relieved beyond words to see you, old friend.” Chronos stepped forward and embraced Ilius. It was an oddly expressive gesture, and far more emotional than Number Eight’s usual demeanor. But Ilius understood. There would be a certain amount of delusion among the members of the Council and the Hegemony’s senior Masters, calls for his head, accusations that his incompetence, and not some overpowering enemy, had been the cause of the disaster at Venta Traconis. But Chronos knew and trusted him. His friend was a longtime skeptic of the legends of the Others, as he himself had been, but Chronos was nothing if not a realist. With over a hundred ships lost—and Ilius’s own admission that his fleet had not destroyed a single enemy vessel—there were no other conclusions to reach. None based on analysis and not on unfocused arrogance and pride.

  The Hegemony had met its match, and possibly its doom. Ilius knew that, and he’d spent the trip back to Calpharon trying to find a way to meet the threat, and to overcome whatever dithering overtook the Council. He’d been confident on one thing, at least, that Chronos would be rational.

  “It is good to see you, Number Eight.” Ilius knew Chronos well enough to call the Master by his name. The use of his ranking title was a desperate reminder to himself of his friend’s rank and power, and whatever meager hopes he could draw from that. “I came right back here to report, though no doubt, word has already reached the Council, if not the general public.”

  “The Council, yes, but not beyond. The vote to impose secrecy was unanimous.” Ilius could tell from Chronos’s tone, his friend didn’t approve of withholding such news. Whether he’d voted with the others out of political maneuvering—there was no gain in being the sole vote against—or because, as much as he disliked the classification of such important information, he still believed it was the best option, was still uncertain. Chronos was generally straightforward and direct, but Ilius knew his comrade was not above ‘playing the game’ when he had to.

  The two men were silent for a few seconds. Then Ilius reached out and put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Chronos…my report is not all doom and despair…” That was only partially true. His report—and his own outlook—were pretty damned close to hopeless. But there was a scarp of good news, and that was better than nothing. “We were unable to track the enemy with sufficient accuracy to establish target locks. All except for one ship, a cruiser. Captain Tragus, the commander of Avia, insists his ship was able to establish a usable lock…and that they scored a hit on one of the enemy vessels. I questioned the report at first, but there is substantial evidence to support his claim. Scanner reports, from Avia and from other vessels positioned nearby, back up Kiloron Tragus’s claims. It appears Avia did score a hit on one of the enemy vessels.”

  Chronos looked back for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, he said, “That is certainly worth looking into, but can we be sure Kiloron Tragus developed some way to target the enemy? Perhaps it was a fluke, a lucky shot, or even something that exploited an enemy malfunction or mistake. It must be repeatable to be of use.”

  “I thought the same thing,
Chronos. Until I reviewed the data. I am convinced Kiloron Tragus found a way to track the enemy’s ships…with sufficient accuracy to support dynamic targeting. I have reviewed his theory and methodology, and I believe it offers us hope of being able to adapt, to meet the enemy next time with at least the ability to inflict damage on them. We may not have the accuracy we’d like, and our weapons are certainly less powerful than theirs, but I believe Tragus’s scanning protocols will work. We’re still outmatched, perhaps hopelessly so, but at least next time, we might be able to do some damage to them.”

  Chronos looked back, silent for half a minute, with an expression that made it clear he would have disbelieved utterly what he’d just been told had it come from someone less reliable than Ilius. Finally, the Master said, in a tone that combined equal amounts of hope and skepticism, “Well, then the first order of business is to sit down with Kiloron Tragus, and have a hard look at what he’s come up with.” He paused again, looking around. “And we will keep this to ourselves for now, Ilius. The Council has descended into politics and infighting, no doubt powered mostly by fear. I will assemble my own research team to review Tragus’s data. That way we can be sure nothing interferes. And, for the moment, I think fear is our ally, at least in keeping the Council in line. Let us not offer unsubstantiated hope just yet.”

  * * *

  Ajia read the words from the screen, her voice a bit wobbly, perhaps, but executing the entire effort with a skill that belied her tender age. The little girl had long wisps of hair hanging down to her shoulders, the color a cross between blonde and light brown that defied simple categorization.

  She was also perfect, at least to Chronos’s biased eyes.

  “Very good, Ajia, my sweet.” Chronos knelt down and put his hands on the girl’s shoulders. He looked back toward the only other person in the room. “She is amazing, Akella.” Chronos knew it was unseemly for one of his rank to be so taken by a mere child, even his own. But Ajia had quickly gained a hold on her father, and she hadn’t let go.

  “She is quite the terror, too. I can assure you of that.” Akella smiled, as her eyes moved back to the girl. “Her half-brother was nowhere close to the handful she is.”

  “That is a sign of extreme intelligence, you know.” Chronos was the eighth most genetically perfect human being known to the Hegemony, and he was fully aware how absurd his dotage was. He just didn’t care.

  “Is it now?” Akella smiled at Chronos, half the warmth due a longtime friend…and half looking very much like something else. Hegemony culture did not promote—or even allow—permanent relationships, and certainly nothing like the paired couplings prevalent in the Confederation, and some of the other Rim nations. And certainly not among the Master class. The Hegemony existed to pull humanity away from the abyss, and monogamy, particularly among those possessing the strongest genetics, was an impediment to advancing the foundational quality of the human stock. A Master was expected to have multiple children, ideally each with a different partner. Chronos believed fully in that policy, in theory, at least, but in his moments of true clarity, he realized he had also allowed his affection for Akella to grow into something…inconvenient…in Hegemony society.

  And the look he’d caught on her face told him she felt at least somewhat the same way.

  Akella turned and gestured toward a woman standing in the doorway. “It is time for Ajia’s nap, Cassis.”

  “Yes, Number One.” The governess walked across the room and reached out to take the child’s hand. Ajia objected immediately, and she lunged quickly to escape and to run toward Chronos. The Master smiled again—and on a deeply hidden level, the child’s iron grip on him tightened. “Go, my sweet. It is time for your nap. I will come to see you again before I leave.” Chronos always found it difficult to leave the girl, but Hegemony culture—and law—was adamant that children lived with the genetically-superior parent. His other offspring lived with him, as befitted Number Eight of the Hegemony, but Akella’s ranking exceeded even his own lofty designation. Ajia’s mother was nothing less than the most genetically perfect human being known.

  She was also the Hegemony’s effective ruler, though she shared power with the other members of the Council. Despite her rank, and her immense roster of responsibilities, she found considerable time to spend with both of her children, something else that set her apart from many of her peers. And fed Chronos’s ever-growing feelings for her.

  The two stood quietly while the governess carried the girl out of the room. Then, Akella spoke, the happiness so recently evident in her voice gone. “Your message mentioned something hopeful, some new tactic? Anything other than despair would be most welcome right now.” Akella had seemed cheerful when Ajia was in the room, but now Chronos got a serious look at just how heavily the stress and tension had worn on her. The Council was largely full of narcissists who delighted in every bit of power and privilege they could gather to themselves, but Akella had always been different. She’d accepted the responsibilities and workload her genetics had destined her to endure, but she’d always seemed like she longed for a quiet and simple existence, something Chronos knew she realized she could never have.

  None of us will have anything if we don’t find a way to win this fight…

  His mind’s discipline failed for an instant, and an image of Akella—and Ajia—flashed through. Not smiling and happy as they’d been moments before, but dead and bloody, lying under the ruins of Calpharon.

  No…I won’t let that happen. Whatever I have to do.

  But Chronos knew the words were empty, even as they came out of the depths of his mind.

  “I have begun researching Kiloron Tragus’s data. Avia’s entire crew has been transferred to the project and sequestered.” A pause. “I thought this was best kept quiet, at least at first.” By ‘quiet,’ he meant hidden from the Council and the meddling of the other senior Masters, and he had no doubt Akella understood him perfectly. He was less sure, though, that she’d support something that would only cause more problems if it was discovered.

  She frowned for a few seconds, but then her face resumed its neutral expression. “It will be unpleasant if word leaks out, or even when we finally have to report the findings…but I agree with your decision. The Council is simply too divided, and this is life or death.”

  “That was what I thought. I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t sure…”

  “You weren’t sure I would agree with you?”

  “No, well not entirely. But I didn’t think you needed more bearing down on you.”

  “So, why tell me now? You could have hidden it a bit longer.”

  “Because we have made some progress. We believe we have verified Tragus’s tracking method.”

  “Tell me about it…but remember, it has been some time since my days in the lab.” Chronos pushed aside a passing thought, a concern about Hegemony society taking a mind as strong as Akella’s, and filling its time mostly with political bullshit. Chronos believed in the Hegemony’s sacred purpose, and he was proud of his own genetics and ranking…but sometimes he wondered if his people didn’t go off course sometimes.

  “Kiloron Tragus—and if this turns out to actually work, we’re going to have to promote him, Kriegeri or not—guessed that the enemy ships emitted a strange band of radiation, one that does not exist in normal space.”

  “Where does it exist, then?”

  “In the transit tubes. In the alternate space inside the pathways between systems.”

  Akella was silent for a moment, but the shock was evident on her face. Hegemony science had come a significant part of the way back to the greatness of the old empire, but the tubes were still a complete mystery. No one even knew if the empire had created them long ago, during its vibrant initial period of growth, or if they had simply been found, the inheritance from some older, now lost civilization. But one thing was certain. Any civilization that could utilize, let alone master, the technology of the tubes was going to be enormously difficult
to face in battle.

  “If that’s true…”

  “I know.” Chronos looked down for a few seconds before his eyes returned to Akella. “But whatever the implications for the enemy’s technology, it is also a way to track them. At least we have reason to hope it is.”

  Akella nodded, still clearly shaken by the revelation. “What practicalities has the research produced? Do we have revised scanners ready for deployment?” A pause, and a deep sigh. “I don’t even know how we’re going to make modifications to the entire fleet quickly enough, with the Others advancing against us.” Chronos looked down again. He knew how they were going to find that time, and he suspected Akella did, too. By abandoning more worlds to the enemy. By pulling back, waiting to fight again until the fleet was ready.

  No matter how many billions that left at the enemy’s mercy.

  “We will have to find a way. We can’t defend anyone if we can’t target the enemy ships.” Chronos didn’t push harder. He knew Akella understood the price the Hegemony would pay for the time it needed, and he saw no reason to discuss it further.

  “How far are you from something workable?”

  “That depends…” They’d come to the part about which Chronos was deeply uncertain. He didn’t like pushing off a momentous decision on Akella, of adding even more to her burden…but he was going to do it anyway. “We have something we think will work right now, but it’s completely untested. Ideally, I’d prefer to send a small task force to find the enemy and test the whole thing.”

  “Send a group of ships to almost certain destruction in the hopes that they are able to get data back via drone or courier ships hovering near the tube?” Akella’s description was grimmer than the one in Chronos’s mind. It was also spot on.