Omphalos

by Harper J. Cole

  Koli raised a hand. “That won’t be necessary. I suspect it wouldn’t help me make our next game any closer.”

  “No, probably not,” agreed Gypsy. “Your main problem was that you overcompensated from last time. Yesterday, you were too aggressive. Today you wasted too many moves with all this over-defensive malarkey over here.” Indicating the space to the left of Koli’s flag, Gypsy noticed a solazu bug trudging across the board on its little feet. She reached out and flicked it away with a finger – the bug rotated in mid-air a few times, then spread its wings and glided off in a new direction.

  “Aggressive, passive or something in-between,” mused Koli, “I’m hardly likely to win, or even draw.”

  “That’s true, we do seem to have moved beyond our period of being competitive. Perhaps there’s another game you could teach me?”

  “I’ll give it thought. Now, shall we have our morning’s session with the Imprinter?”

  “If you really think I still need it. I feel strong all the time these days.”

  “We should go on a bit longer, yes. You may regress otherwise.”

  “If you say so. Before we begin, though…” Gypsy plucked a sheaf of papers from her lap and held them out. “A present for you, my friend.”

  The Anasadan took the pages uncertainly. She started slightly when she saw what was on them. “Is this…”

  “Yes. The secrets of the Kinkawa equations. I threw in a proof for the Goldbach conjecture as a bonus. And as an apology, for taking so long to see sense. I’m a stubborn woman at heart, like my mother was.” Gypsy was surprised to see Koli silent and stony-faced as she flicked through the pages. Wasn’t she happy that her hard work had paid off? Already thinking ahead to the next challenge, perhaps. “Don’t worry. I know that this is just the start. Any maths problems you have, you bring them to me. I’m happy to work directly with your weapons specialists, too. I’ll be your most valuable asset in the war effort; we won’t stop until the Mono-slugs are ground into the dirt, where they won’t threaten anyone’s families ever again.”

  Koli grimaced, and even seemed to have tears in her eyes. “Gypsy, never once did I … what is this?”

  Gypsy looked in surprise at her friend – or rather, at the chair on which Koli sat, for it seemed to have come alive. The tough wooden supports were snapping and cracking as they reshaped about the doctor’s arms, transforming into restraints made stronger by the swirls of stone which suddenly laced them.

  Comprehension dawned. “Don’t hurt her!” commanded Gypsy sharply, coming around the table to place a restraining hand on the chair. Whether anyone had heard her or not, the chair ceased its metamorphosis, though Koli’s struggles to get loose were in vain.

  “What’s happening?”

  “My friends are here. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it you’re not harmed.”

  At that moment there came a cry of pure delight from the open doorway. Gypsy just had time to turn and see the freckled face of Annie before the red head was lurching wildly toward her, evidently less-than-comfortable with the low gravity. She stumbled to all fours, sprang back up again and enveloped Gypsy in a hug. “Found you, found you, found you!”

  “Annie, it’s good to see you. Is Chamonix nearby?”

  “What?”

  “Chamonix. I need to speak to her. Is she close?”

  “Uhhh, yeah.” Looking rather confused, Annie pointed out into the corridor.

  Gypsy stepped over the threshold and saw the hybrid immediately, a grey spectre stalking confidently in her direction, the soft clink of exoskeleton on floor greeting every step. Metallic ribs protruded from the flesh on her right side but not her left, producing an unnatural asymmetry. “Chamonix,” said Gypsy without hesitation, “the Matan in that cell is my friend. Could you release her, please?”

  “As you wish…” Chamonix dug her pale, gleaming fingers into the wall; when Gypsy looked back into her cell, the chair was already back to normal, and Koli was climbing unsteadily to her feet.

  “Koli, this is Annie, who I’ve mentioned before.” Leaving the two of them to get acquainted, Gypsy turned back into the corridor. “Chamonix, you seem to have picked up some new skills while I’ve been away.”

  “Reacquired old ones, actually. My powers have been growing rapidly these past few weeks. Soon I may reclaim all that I lost when we left Vitana behind.” The ghostly visage regarded her. “You appear somewhat changed yourself.”

  “I am, but there’s plenty of time to tell that story later. Speaking of time, how long was I away?”

  “About eight months,” said Annie at her elbow. She was wearing a space suit, Gypsy noticed, though the helmet had been removed. “We got your signal a few weeks back, but we had to fix up the Bona Dea and-”

  “Well, you’re here now. Is the whole base secure?”

  Chamonix nodded. “I have restrained one hundred and twelve people, and confiscated their weaponry. One further individual was able to shoot himself before I could stop him.”

  “Which one?”

  “Sorry, I don’t have that sort of information.”

  “Never mind. We’ve got a prisoner to collect.”

  * * *

  Soon, the four of them were entering the communal eatery with Colonel Matha in tow, the Monosadan wearing handcuffs that Chamonix had fashioned for him out of stone. He was, Gypsy judged, genuinely worried for the first time since she’d met him. This was not part of his plan.

  Gypsy had expected Annie to be delighted at the sight of Matha defeated, but the redhead seemed suddenly subdued. She kept sneaking puzzled glances at Gypsy. Probably marvelling at the change in me. That’s understandable.

  The eatery was the largest chamber in the whole base, as far as Gypsy was aware, but still low-ceilinged and cramped when filled with tables and chairs. There were several Anasadans here, bound to their seats just as Koli had been. Miriam Hunter was present, engaged in earnest conversation with a quartet of green-uniformed military types who Gypsy regarded with distaste. Monosadans. Hunter looked tired, but smiled broadly upon noticing the newcomers.

  “Gypsy, thank God! You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Hello, Captain.”

  Even those two words were enough to make Hunter look at her with a slightly quizzical expression; more likely, it was Gypsy’s confident and unstuttering delivery which surprised. In either case, the captain evidently decided that questions could wait for later. “Hoga,” she said, addressing the oldest of the uniformed Monosadans, “it looks like your errant colonel’s been found. Why don’t you take him on your ship? We’ll follow your flight path out. Chamonix, I want you to wait as long as possible before releasing the prisoners. Can you-”

  “Wait,” cut in Gypsy. “There’s something more.”

  Hunter’s golden eyebrows rose. “Go on,” she prompted.

  “Matha’s the key,” said Gypsy, glancing back at where the man stood, stony-faced. “Things have been a lot clearer for me lately, but even from the start I had suspicions that certain events were being staged for my benefit.” She turned to Koli. “Commander Ayakopi. You and he would play off each other, wouldn’t you? What we call the good cop / bad cop routine on Earth. The more he frightened me, the more I trusted you.”

  The station doctor cast her eyes downwards. “Only that first time, when you refused to help us. Ayakopi hoped that he could either scare you into co-operating, or else make me look good by comparison. I’m sorry, it was-”

  “No apology necessary – it was a good tactic, and it worked. It’s to be expected that two people on the same side will work together like you did, but how about two people on different sides?” She jabbed a finger at Matha. “You, Colonel, acted to provoke hatred in me, for you and your people. You did so quite deliberately … and, might I add, unnecessarily.”

  Matha flexed his limbs against the restrains that bound him, and sneered nastily. “What of it? A prisoner must entertain himself. Toying with you was as fun a pastime as any other.”

>   “And I suppose it was just a coincidence that your ‘fun’ helped push me in exactly the direction the Summer Frost wanted me to go in? And that Ayakopi urged me to visit you in your cell beforehand? And that you seem quite unbattered and unbruised, despite living for months as a prisoner of war with important secrets that might usefully be beaten out of him? No, you and Ayakopi have been on the same side from the start. When you kidnapped me, it was always with the intention that I would end up here.”

  Koli looked surprised, but not shocked. “I was told that he was with the Icebreaker terrorist sect. Ayakopi did like his secrets, though…”

  “I can confirm this,” said Hoga gruffly. “Matha is a traitor, and must be tried as one when we return. As the wheel of war spins, it throws out such men. I’m sorry that he brought you woe.”

  “We already knew that Matha was with the Summer Frost,” confirmed Hunter, slightly impatiently. “We’ll fill you in on all the details once we’re safely away.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “What?”

  “Matha isn’t with either Monosade or Anasade. He’s with neither. Though, you’d probably say you’re with both, wouldn’t you Colonel?” She took a step towards the man, and was satisfied to see a furtive look steal across his face, eyes narrowing as he watched her. A cornered animal looking for a way out. “Yes. You got complacent around me. Ayakopi too.”

  “Explain, Gypsy,” said Hunter, but she now sounded less impatient and more intrigued.

  “Well, Captain, when I went over my conversation with Matha afterwards, I noticed that he talked about his ‘culture’ rather a lot, and in glowing terms. He thought it was much better than the decadence found on Kerin. That’s quite unusual, don’t you think? A people so often at war should compare themselves first and foremost to their rivals, not to a planet light-years away. He also used a specific phrase, ‘strength to our culture’, which Ayakopi almost said to me a little earlier, before he stopped himself. And what was the source of that strength? War, in Matha’s opinion.

  “I’m not good at reading people, even now, but I’d been given enough pieces to complete the puzzle. The ‘culture’ Matha and Ayakopi are so proud of is a joint one: Monosade and Anasade, together, forging warriors in the fires of conflict. Peace is anathema to them, whether it comes about through negotiation or simply one world conquering the other. That’s the real reason I was brought here. Monosade was pulling ahead, the end was in sight. My genius was supposed to preserve the balance of power.”

  Hoga’s face had been reddening as she spoke. “Warmongers!” he spat out. “I’ve heard whispers of this perverted philosophy festering in the underbellies of our cities, but never dreamt they might have the influence to carry off such a scheme. Two people would never be enough. How many are there?”

  “More than you could ever imagine.” Matha actually sounded quite pleased to have been found out. Eager to boast, Gypsy guessed. “You poor, kolochi-addled old man. Every true son of our star knows what sets him above the lesser worlds. It is death, the gift both given and taken. You cannot stop what we started.”

  “And there’s the final clue,” said Gypsy. “This cult of war is nothing new. They’ve been there, festering in your underbelly (nice phrase that, by the way, you’re quite poetic) for centuries. What was it that triggered your first war?”

  “The theft of Vitana’s stone from our world.” Realisation dawned. “You mean…”

  “I very much suspect that Matha’s forebears had a hand in that theft.”

  “My God!” cried Hunter. “And what better place for them to be holding it than here? Chamonix, is there any way that you could…?”

  “…use my expanded perceptions to search for the handiwork of my parent? Yes, I believe I can, provided it’s kept nearby. Give me a moment.”

  Gypsy was intrigued to see the hybrid’s feet meld with the stone beneath them. Chamonix closed her eyes in concentration, her pallid features setting like steel. Then she nodded. “Yes – I have it. Practically under our noses, actually.” She pointed. “A short walk in that direction.”

  Koli followed the direction of her finger. “It’s mostly personal quarters that way.”

  “The artefact seems to be in a safe of some kind,” said Chamonix. “There are a number of explosive-based security devices in place. I’m deactivating them – you can enter.”

  Chamonix’s eyes snapped open; her feet detached themselves from the floor with an odd sucking sound, and she stepped forward. The little group made their way across the eatery, passing a number of largely silent Anasadan prisoners, who looked more confused than anything. Annie tapped Gypsy lightly on the shoulder as they moved through into a corridor. “Great job piecing it all together, Gypsy Moth. You knocked it outta the park.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Their destination proved to be Ayakopi’s quarters. Entering, they found that the station commander was the suicide victim Chamonix had spoken of earlier. There was a sidearm still clutched in his hand, and a large exit wound at the back of his head. The sight didn’t interest Gypsy; in the far corner of the room, there was a safe built into the wall. Its door appeared to have been roughly torn from its hinges – the work of Chamonix, no doubt. While the others hesitated in the doorway, Gypsy walked to the gaping hole, reached in and pulled out … not one fragment of Vitana’s artefact, but two. They were joined seamlessly together, but the size of the joined piece was clearly double the norm.

  “These can only be Monosade’s stone and Anasade’s joined,” said Koli with wonder. “But ours lies under heavy guard on the homeworld.”

  “A duplicate,” said Matha, with the tone of a patronising schoolmaster. “We stole both fragments within hours of each other, all those generations ago. Anasade’s government chose to hide the truth and not lose face with the people. They acted as politicians.” He shook his head contemptuously. “The theft has been kept secret ever since.”

  “Um, this is fascinating and all, but can we talk about it outside?” Annie was trying her hardest not to look at Ayakopi’s corpse. When no-one responded, she beat a hasty retreat alone.

  “This is terrible,” said Hoga, taking the stone from Gypsy and studying it minutely. “No tool we possess can cut through Vitana’s handiwork. How are we to split the stone now that it has been joined?”

  “You see the beauty of it?” Matha was sounding pleased again. “Even now, we win. Only one world may possess this jewel of the galaxy, but both will claim it. The result: war. The unworthy will be purged from another generation. Strength to our culture!”

  “Unless,” said Koli softly, “we give the stone to the Earth ship, and let them take it away.”

  Hoga stiffened and said nothing; Matha actually gasped. As for Hunter, Gypsy found her face unreadable – an impressive feat, as hope must be flaring wildly inside her.

  Koli was looking down at the body of her erstwhile commander. “The warmonger is right. We’ve fought too long now to share Vitana’s stone, Vitana’s curse, that breeds such hate. As long as it lives among us, there will always be scenes like this, always death … and the tears of those left behind. The first step towards peace is letting go. I am a representative of Anasade. I choose to let go.” She looked expectantly at Hoga.

  The grizzled soldier returned her gaze evenly. “If we do this thing, I will face treason charges the minute I return home, and justly so. My career would be forfeit, perhaps even my life.” He drew in a long breath that seemed to straighten his spine and square his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Better than I have died for less.”

  “Jiri,” said Hunter. “Your daughter? You hoped to find her here. That’s why you were eager to help us in person.”

  “We thought there might be prisoners kept here besides your Gypsy. There are not. At least now I can grieve.”

  Grief, thought Gypsy. I used to feel that, didn’t I? Funny, I still know the meaning of the word, but not the feeling of being inside it. Why should anyone cry for yesterday’s loss
when they can live for today? Perhaps he needs some time with the Mental Imprinter? Perhaps everyone does. It’s a real panacea.

  Hoga was speaking again. “I’ve been ready to let go of war since my first skirmish. Take your prize, Captain. May its removal bring joy to you and us alike.”

  “No!” roared Matha, struggling futilely against his bonds. “You don’t have the right, neither of you … this stone is your destiny – fight for it!” He lurched forward, swinging his manacled hands at Hoga.

  The veteran calmly stepped into the attack, delivering a palm heel punch which cracked Matha’s nose and sent him crashing to the floor, dazed and bloodied.

  Making no great ceremony of the moment, the War Minister passed Vitana’s stone to Hunter. He extended his hand toward Dr. Koli in peace, and she took it without hesitation.

  * * *

  “So, ah, what’s been up? You seem kinda not you.”

  “Yes,” replied Gypsy. “I imagine the contrast with my previous self is fairly stark: clearer thinking, more confidence. You could say I’ve made some upgrades.”

  “Ready to commence decon shower,” came Iris’ voice over the intercom. Gypsy placed her now-faded yellow garments in the clothing tube, together with her quantum goggles. Koli had brought her these before she had left, the humans climbing back up to the surface by means of a tunnel Chamonix had carved through solid rock. Gypsy and Annie were the last pair to board; soon, the Bona Dea would follow Hoga’s ship along a course crafted to slip through the Anasadan detection net.

  The final goodbye with Koli had been a rather muted affair; she wondered whether the doctor had worked out how her human captive had manipulated her, or whether she was simply feeling guilt over her own actions.

  “It’s an interesting story,” said Gypsy as she began to take off her Anasadan garments. “After I refused to lend my genius to their war machine, the Anasadans tried to encourage me with drugs, but triggered a breakdown instead. I’m not sure whether that was their plan all along, but they took advantage of the situation quite cleverly. Koli suggested that we use something called a Mental Imprinter to help me. It would take patterns of thought from her brain and copy them into mine.”