The Eve of War

by Christopher Hopper

  “Very well, sir.”

  Awen was still doubled over, laughing so hard that her injuries pained her. “I have not laughed this hard in a long time.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It hurts.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  When Awen finally caught her breath and composed herself, Magnus looked back at TO-96. “So, aside from your armaments, what else has your master done to you?”

  TO-96 hesitated. Awen realized he was filtering his answer.

  “The armaments are all, sir,” TO-96 said.

  “He’s lying,” Ezo said from the doorway. “Just following my orders, though.” Heads turned to watch the captain stroll over and take a seat next to Awen. “His AI has expandable architecture. Almost none of my clients ever notice. Which is a shame, as TO-96 is my crowning achievement.”

  “Expandable architecture?” Magnus asked. “As in, his AI is giving itself new directives besides the ones you programed it to have?”

  “That’s pretty much the sum of it, yes. Not bad.”

  “You did this?” Awen asked.

  Ezo nodded. “It’s taken me nearly ten common years and every extra credit I could siphon. But yeah, I did this. Well, we did this,” he amended, indicating TO-96.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “A true unrestricted AI,” Magnus mumbled. “In a single bot. That’s—”

  “Illegal?” Ezo asked. “Quite so. The only thing scarier to the Republic than an autonomous android is a bot with an infinitely learning AI.”

  “Then how’s it not considered sentient?” Magnus asked. “I’m mean, it’s not—he’s not—sentient, right?” He glanced at TO-96.

  “You’d have to ask him that,” Ezo replied with a smirk.

  “That means he’s banned throughout the galaxy,” Awen remarked.

  Magnus nodded. “Which makes him—”

  “One of a kind, sir,” TO-96 said. “As are you both, I might add.”

  “He’s even self-deprecating,” Awen said with a smile. She studied the bot for a moment. “Do you feel lonely, then?”

  TO-96 tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

  “Does being the only one of your kind in the galaxy, maybe even in the universe, make you feel lonely?”

  “I suppose I’ve never thought of that, Awen. I find Ezo’s companionship quite acceptable.”

  “Thank you, Ninety-Six.” Ezo gave the bot a pat on its shoulder.

  “Though, now that you mention it, meeting others of my kind could be rather… stimulating.”

  “Hey,” Ezo said with mock outrage.

  “I do apologize, Captain,” TO-96 said. “I meant no ill will. Protecting your ass, as you call it, is certainly thrilling. But if there were others like me, I would surely enjoy meeting them.”

  “Remind me to build you a girlfriend,” Ezo replied.

  “Duly noted, sir.”

  Ezo addressed Awen and Magnus. “Ninety-Six here is my insurance, my guardian angel. And we’ve been through our share of hell together. You can’t be too careful in this line of business. In any case, you’re both very perceptive. You work together a lot?”

  Magnus laughed and looked at Awen. “Yeah… no.”

  “You should consider it,” Ezo said. “You make a good team, it seems. Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you kept your observations to yourself. Best not to let the Repub know, as none of their engineers would be able to sleep at night.”

  “Copy that,” Magnus said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to either.”

  “Thank you for your discretion, sir,” TO-96 added.

  “No problem.”

  “And in exchange,” Ezo said to Awen, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re carrying a stardrive.”

  Awen didn’t even flinch. “What stardrive?”

  Ezo winked at her.

  “Sir,” the bot said, “I believe that—”

  “Yeah, yeah—we’re about to jump out of subspace.” Ezo turned to Awen and Magnus. “Did I mention that hyperintelligent companions with advanced powers can also be—”

  “A royal pain in the ass?” Magnus said, eyeing Awen. “I know the feeling.”

  • • •

  “We know each other, don’t we?” Magnus said to Ezo. He rarely played a card in his hand without being assured that he knew what he was doing. Seeing as how he would most likely never see the bounty hunter again, however, he had to ask. They stood alone on Geronimo Nine’s bridge. They would be orbiting Worru for several more minutes.

  “Know each other? Ezo and the lieutenant?”

  Magnus waited for the captain to finish his own question. It was an awkward tactic but effective.

  Ezo shook his head, seeing that Magnus wasn’t going to jump in. “I think I would remember a trigger-happy trooper.”

  “Trigger-happy?”

  “You did almost blow me away when I shook Awen’s hand.”

  “You wanted to do a little more than shake it, if I remember.”

  “So you remember that but not if we met before?”

  “Never mind,” Magnus said, waving a hand. “Listen, I’m leaving, but I want you to do me a favor.”

  “A favor? More than take you halfway across the galaxy on my own credits? I don’t—”

  “They were Abimbola’s credits. And I can always tell him that you did a lousy job.”

  “No, no.” Ezo waved his hands. “That’s fine. What’s the favor?”

  “Hang out in Plumeria for one more day.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Check in on old friends, rustle up a new job, you know—bounty-hunter stuff. Whatever.”

  “Bounty-hunter stuff? That’s not a thing.”

  “It is now. Just hang out for one more day in case she needs you. Got it?”

  Ezo placed a hand on his chest, a smile growing on his face. “Needs me? You think she might need me?”

  “Careful. I’m trigger happy, remember?”

  Ezo’s smile disappeared. “What’s in it for me?”

  Magnus had been afraid he might ask that. Ezo was a glorified fence, after all. No one gets past this sort without a fee. “Let’s just say I’ll owe you one.”

  “As in, a favor?”

  Magnus closed his eyes and shook his head. “Something like that, yes.”

  “Ezo can hang out one more day. Plus, Plumeria is lovely this time of year.”

  “That it is,” Magnus said, knowing that the weather on Plumeria never changed. It was beautiful every time of year. He eyed the man. “Thank you, Ezo.”

  “Happy to help.”

  • • •

  “You thinking of opening it before you leave?” Magnus asked her. They stood in the cargo bay, preparing to disembark, while Ezo and TO-96 conducted their postflight checklist.

  The landing on Worru had been uneventful, aside from Awen’s ritual of taking a purloined vomit bag from TO-96 and filling it. She and Magnus had joined Ezo on the bridge as they touched down, admiring the city’s blend of ancient and modern architecture. The result, Awen always noted, was a city birthed from antiquity but formed by the future. Hand-cut sandstone ribbed high-density pyraglass towers like sail battens, while granite arches supported iridescent plastigon domes that filled the city with color. Whenever Awen left Worru, she felt homesick, and whenever she returned, the world was right again. Worru felt like home.

  Like Elonia? she asked herself. No. Elonia never felt like home.

  She waited a beat, giving the voice in her head a chance to argue. But it didn’t. And why should it? Worru had been her home for the last six years—the best six years of her life, when she’d learned so much and had been permitted to dive into her research and form her own worldview on justice and the preservation of galactic cultures. Not only that, but she had thrived and become… What? she wondered. An asset to the Order? Awen could only hope as much. But more than that, she wanted to be an asset to the cultures she was called to serve. But had she really ser
ved the Jujari? Or had she just been part of beginning their genocide?

  That wasn’t my fault. That’s not how the pursuit of galactic peace is supposed to work out.

  “Awen?”

  Her eyes snapped up to Magnus’s. He stood beside her, holding his helmet and blaster.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I was just…” She shook her head.

  “So, are you going to open it?”

  “No, the Order’s rules don’t permit me to.” She finished securing the stardrive in a small leather satchel that Ezo had given her. “It was entrusted to me by way of my occupation as a Luma. That is sacred and eclipses whatever individual interests I may have.”

  “I can respect that. Although, it is a stardrive. When will you ever see one again?”

  “All the more reason to get this back to the Order. It’s well above my pay grade”—she tapped a finger on his armor—“and yours, trooper, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Magnus sighed. “Fair enough.”

  Awen put the strap over her head and patted the satchel on her hip. “So, you headed back, then?”

  “To Oorajee? Probably. I’ll report to the sector chief here, then they’ll contact my battalion commander. He’ll decide what to do with me from there. But I’m guessing I’ll rejoin my unit over Oorajee—or what’s left of it, anyway.”

  “What’s left of your unit or what’s left of Oorajee?”

  “Both,” Magnus said. A look of anger and sorrow washed over his face.

  “I’m sorry for those you’ve lost,” she said, lowering her voice.

  “And I for yours,” Magnus replied, looking into her eyes with something like…

  What? Genuine care? Or is it desire? she thought then scolded herself. Don’t be foolish. Why would you want that, anyway?

  “Chances are, we’ll be seeing action around that system for years to come,” Magnus added.

  “Years?” Awen snapped out of her thoughts. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then Awen turned her head. Why does he keep looking at me? “They’re expecting me. So I guess this is goodbye.”

  “Yup.”

  “Yup. And I just wanted to say thanks again for, you know, all of the protecting. You can tell your commanding officers that you did well.”

  “We don’t really self-report that kind of thing, but I still appreciate it,” Magnus said.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with… whoever it is I have to put in a good word with.”

  “You do that, Awen. And thank you for saving me too.”

  “You’re welcome. Just be careful telling your troopers that a Luma kept you alive. That might not go over too well.”

  “I think I’ll keep that to myself.”

  Awen extended her hand. “Take care of yourself,” she said, chin raised.

  Magnus looked at her hand and paused.

  Why isn’t he shaking it? Her mind raced through a myriad of cultural protocols. Wasn’t shaking hands still an accepted form of professional interaction in humanoid relationships? Yes, yes. Of course it is.

  Finally, Magnus removed his glove and took her hand. His eyes lit up as she placed a small piece of paper between their palms. Awen liked that she had surprised him by using the Marines’ military tradition of exchanging challenge coins in a handshake.

  “Take care,” she repeated.

  “Take care,” he replied as the ramp door cracked open and let in the Worruvian sun’s warm light. He palmed the paper and replaced his glove. Awen watched as he walked out of the ship and passed two Luma escorts who waited on the landing pad. He tipped his head to both, replaced his helmet, and disappeared around the side of the ship.

  Chapter 15

  The two Luma escorts bowed to Awen and informed her that Master So-Elku requested an audience with her at once. She thanked them and asked them to wait. “I need to settle things with the captain.” They nodded and walked back to the transport skiff. Awen returned up the loading ramp and found TO-96 stowing crates in the cargo bay. “Have you seen Ezo?”

  “He will be down shortly, Awen. It’s time for you to leave, I take it.”

  “That it is.”

  “I see.” He stood upright and walked toward her, extending his hand. “Please accept my warmest regards. It has been inspirational making your acquaintance.”

  “Inspirational,” she repeated with a chuckle, reaching to shake his hand. “I need to meet more people like you.”

  “More people, Awen? I think you have me confused with a sentient.”

  “The way I see it, Ninety-Six, if we could all learn to be a little more thoughtful like you, the galaxy would be a better place. And for your sake, I hope you find others like you out there in the cosmos.”

  The bot recoiled, head turning side to side, then looked back at Awen. “Why, I don’t even know what to say, Awen. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, smiling. She could have sworn she saw the bot blush.

  “Leaving so soon?” came Ezo’s voice from up a side stairwell. He let his hands slide down the rails and took the steps three at a time. “What a shame to bid farewell to our prettiest client in—what would you say, Ninety-Six? A year common?”

  “Based on your promiscuous activity with that Dellophinian last week, I’d say it was more like—”

  “And that’s enough of that.” Out of the corner of his mouth, Ezo whispered, “It was a rhetorical question, you wire brain.”

  “In any case,” Awen said, stifling a laugh, “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and the use of your ship.” She looked down at her clothes. “Should I get these back to you?”

  “Please keep them. And think of me fondly,” he said with a wink.

  “Charming.” Awen suddenly savored the thought of getting into new robes and burning Ezo’s clothes. “Will business keep you on Worru for any length of time?”

  “Just long enough to refuel and take on some minor supplies. Maybe secure a job worth paying for this jaunt, you know. Just the usual bounty-hunting stuff.” Ezo seemed oddly anxious.

  “Bounty-hunting stuff? That’s a thing?”

  “It is now.”

  “Well, I hope you find compensation. And please be sure to relay my thanks to Abimbola the next time you see him.”

  “I most certainly will.”

  “But, sir,” TO-96 interrupted, “I thought you said you never wanted to see the warlord again.”

  “Rhetorical,” Ezo seethed between clenched teeth.

  “Safe travels, then,” Awen replied. “May you find the desires of your heart in the unity of all things.” She waved her hand over them in the sign of the Luma and bowed.

  Ezo tried to mimic the gesture, but the effort was clumsy. As Awen walked away, he said, “And may you find your unity in unifying your desires by—”

  “You don’t need to say anything back, sir,” TO-96 whispered.

  “Splick. Thank you. That was awkward.”

  • • •

  Sunlight flashed between sandstone colonnades as the skiff moved quickly through the interconnected plazas. Luma crisscrossed the open squares en route to any number of destinations, from lecture halls to practice chambers. Others walked along cloisters and moved in and out of their cells.

  Awen drew in a deep breath of the flower-scented air and savored the sweet smell. It felt good to be home. It was almost as if she’d never even left, such was the pleasant pace of life here. Only now Plumeria is missing some of her most beautiful souls. Awen saw the second-story windows of the classroom where Elder Toochu taught first years the fundamentals of meditation. That was where she’d first met Matteo. She imagined him sitting beside the fountain where they spent evenings discussing particle physics—one of her favorite pastimes when not immersed in all things Jujari. He was one of the few people who never laughed at her for geeking out over string theory or advanced quantum dynamics. I’ll
never have that again, she realized. Her heart ached.

  The skiff turned into a wide circular thoroughfare that led up to the Grand Arielina, the structure that the Luma had esteemed as their core sanctuary since antiquity. Bordered by colorful gardens and flowing streams, the building seemed as though it were hewn from a single block of sandstone stretching several hundred meters into the azure sky. Moreover, unlike other buildings, which betrayed the angular manipulations of cutting torch and diamond blade, the Arielina looked as though it had grown up from the ground itself.

  The foundation undulated like the base of massive trees, rising to gentle archways and porticos. The structure continued skyward, providing cover for increasingly smaller verandas before morphing into spires made of twisted stone branches. Brilliant iridescent orbs punctuated the spires and could be seen from almost any point in the city, while a single waterfall cascaded down from among the orbs, redirected at various landings, and finally splashed into a massive pool below the building’s main steps.

  The two escorts climbed out of the skiff and helped Awen stand. They walked beside her, moving up the grand steps to the sounds of splashing water. How Awen wished she could jump in and rinse herself of the memories of the last days.

  At the top of the steps, the escorts bowed and left her in the care of Elder Willowood. The old woman wore Luma robes, but that was where her similarity to other elders ended. She donned a dozen bangles on each wrist and just as many necklaces, each abounding with gold and colorful stones. As attractive as the baubles were, her aging blue eyes radiated even more brilliantly. And capping it all was a mass of wiry gray hair that made her look as if she’d been unwittingly charged by an energy pack.

  “Awen,” Willowood said, moving to embrace her. “What a joy it is to see—”

  Awen cut her off, fell into the elderly woman’s arms, and began to weep. She hadn’t expected to break down here in the open, but when she saw Willowood, it was like a dam that had grown too fatigued from having to hold back a body of water had finally given way. One minute, the structure looked sound; the next it had broken apart and let through a flood of tears.

  Willowood was safe. Not that any of the other elders weren’t, but the two of them had formed a special bond the first day they’d met. And in a place as overwhelmingly cerebral and intellectually diverse as Plumeria, connecting meaningfully with others was important. It kept the soul grounded to the beauty of personal relationship when it could easily be lost in the chaos of galactic cosmology. In fact, given the rift that had developed between Awen and her mother, Willowood had become like a surrogate mother. Awen had often wondered if the elder didn’t get her more than anyone else in the galaxy—maybe even more than she got herself. All the emotions Awen had kept bottled up poured out onto Willowood, tears turning the elder’s robes deeper shades of maroon and black.