by C H Gideon
“What changed her mind?” Jenkins asked with genuine curiosity.
“You did, of course,” Durgan chuckled. “I’ve prepared a little presentation I hope you’ll indulge me in watching?”
“Of course,” Jenkins agreed, and the lights dimmed before Sarah Samuels’ image sprang to life via holo-emitter in the center of the room.
“This is Sarah Samuels, embedded reporter with the Terran Armor Corps on the frozen world known as Shiva’s Wrath,” the reporter began, standing on the same ice-field from which she had opened her DIN report. “Some say the Armor Corps is outdated, that modern warfare requires flexibility and versatility which is simply impossible to achieve with vehicles whose designs often date back two centuries. Critics say the battlefield for the Republic’s future is changing faster than we are, and if we’re not careful, we’ll find ourselves on the losing end of a race for the future of our Terran way of life.”
Durgan accelerated the recording, skipping past several minutes of her continued monologue while he casually remarked, “I trust you get the idea.”
“I do,” Jenkins said, setting his jaw as he realized just how dangerous Sarah Samuels had been to the Armor Corps’ future. She had prepared two separate, conflicting narratives during her time with the Legion. One had been intended to bury Jenkins and his branch, the other intended to canonize them.
He shuddered to think of the difference in his peoples’ lives if she had opted to air the former and not the latter.
“I can assure you, Colonel Jenkins,” he said, pausing the recording on the image of a Zeen vehicle-bug’s wreckage, “that she was not cheaply bought. Suppressing this portion of her report cost me very, very dearly.” He turned to Jenkins with an expectant look. “Are we on the same page?”
Jenkins nodded resolutely. “We are.”
“Good,” the director said, his gaze lingering on Jenkins before he deactivated the projector and caused the lights to resume their previous luminosity. “Because what I’m about to show you could cost me even more dearly than Ms. Samuels’ silence,” Durgan said, beckoning for Jenkins to follow him to a door on the far wall.
Jenkins followed the director to the door, and Durgan keyed in a series of codes, then did a biometric scan. The door slid open, revealing what looked like an airlock beyond. Durgan stepped into the airlock, and Jenkins followed. The door slid shut behind them, locking with a hiss before a decontamination cycle initiated.
When the cycle completed, the second door slid open to reveal a dimly-lit, circular chamber.
Durgan moved into the room, followed by Jenkins, and when the airlock door secured behind them, it plunged the room into darkness.
“This room contains my two most precious secrets, Colonel,” the director said from a few meters to Jenkins’ left. “The first of which I do not expect you to recognize,” he explained as a soft, blue light illuminated a six-foot-tall, two-foot-wide transparent cylinder three meters in front of Jenkins.
The cylinder was filled with a pale blue liquid, and floating motionless at the cylinder’s center was the shriveled form of something bipedal, but beyond that, Jenkins had no reasonable guess as to what it was.
He stepped closer to the cylinder, examining it from top to bottom for several seconds before determining its head was in fact above, and its caudal section was below in what was only barely-suggestive of a bipedal form. Its bony, emaciated arms were covered in what looked like sores, and its face was a twisted mockery of anything deserving to be called such.
But there was something strange about that face which caught his attention. Something unnatural. Something…
“Not symmetrical,” Jenkins realized aloud, recoiling as he understood what he was looking at. “This is a Jemmin?”
“Impressive, Colonel,” the director said with mixed surprise and approval. “Yes, this is a Jemmin. But to refer to it in the singular might not be linguistically consistent with our concept of individuality.”
“It doesn’t look anything like the images we saw transmitted by the Azure Spire.” Jenkins peered closer at the thing’s sunken, misshapen head.
“This particular Jemmin was a rogue,” Durgan explained, “but in order to gain its freedom and become an individual, it had to undergo a painful, self-destructive, and ultimately fatal series of operations.”
“How do you know this?” Jenkins asked warily.
“Because it told us so,” Durgan replied matter-of-factly. “More precisely, it told my grandfather so shortly before it died over a hundred years ago.”
Jenkins felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. Durgan’s family has interacted with the Jemmin for over a century? His mind began to race through the possible repercussions.
“You’re probably wondering whether you can trust any of this, now that you know my family has been directly exposed to the Jemmin and their potential lines of misinformation,” Durgan continued, correctly identifying Jenkins’ present misgivings. “Which is why I’ve arranged for you to meet someone who, I hope, will put your mind at ease on that front.”
A second faint light filled the room, but this light was a verdant green and grew steadily in brightness until it dwarfed the pale blue of the Jemmin’s specimen container. Jenkins turned toward the source of the green light and was strangely unsurprised at what he saw.
Floating in a second transparent container, this one egg-shaped and supported on a rolling chassis about two meters long, was an octopus-looking creature. Its tentacles waved hypnotically, and its skin flashed with a bizarre, far-too-fast sequence of colors and patterns that were nothing short of dazzling.
“Colonel Jenkins,” Durgan introduced, “meet Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth, my personal contact with the Vorr Cooperative.”
“Colonel Jenkins,” a distinctly feminine voice emanated from the Vorr’s fluid-filled pod, “we are pleased to formally meet. Director Durgan speaks highly of you. On behalf of my people, I extend an offer of friendship and clarity,” the Vorr said, and Jenkins watched as it seemed to “pop” a third of one of its tentacles off, which it carefully gripped in two others and gently lowered to the floor of the egg pod.
Jenkins watched with mixed alarm and fascination as the dismembered segment of the Vorr’s body was sucked off the pod’s floor and quickly presented on a small, tray-like apparatus built into the pod’s drive system.
He hesitated, and Director Durgan made no attempt to hide his amusement at Jenkins’ apparent squeamishness. But Jenkins had prepared for this since before arriving on Shiva’s Wrath, and he took the gently-squirming tentacle reverently in his hands before making the appropriate reply. “I accept your offer of friendship and clarity in the hope of promoting future harmony between us.”
With that, he schooled his face into a mask and tried to swallow the ten-centimeter-long tentacle in a single go. Unfortunately, it stuck in his throat partway down, and he was forced to chew the surprisingly tender and tasty bit of flesh a few times before it would go down. He looked around for a blade of some kind, with which to cut himself and offer a small portion of blood as they had come to learn was appropriate when reciprocating the infamous Vorr gesture.
The Vorr’s skin flashed with a rainbow-like array of colors. “We do not expect you to reciprocate the traditional exchange of our people. It is sufficient that you recognize the significance of this gesture.”
“I do.” Jenkins nodded agreeably, forcing himself to avoid thinking about what he had just done so he could focus on the exchange. “Thank you.” He turned to the dead Jemmin in the tube. “What is your issue with the Jemmin?”
“Jemmin do not respect sovereignty,” Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth replied serenely. “We Vorr are mistrustful of outsiders and resisted Jemmin efforts to influence our culture and technology. This angered Jemmin. This Jemmin—” The Vorr turned pointedly toward the dead, misshapen corpse in the cylinder. “—was not like the rest of Jemmin and tried to help Vorr.”
“It gave the Vorr,” Durgan explained,
“information which painted a clear picture of how the Jemmin have uplifted several different species throughout the last few thousand years. These uplifts were raised using the same package of technological ‘gifts,’ which the uplifts weren’t even aware they had been given. The proof, which the Vorr and the Zeen recovered together as part of a joint operation on Shiva’s Wrath, was deposited there by this Jemmin shortly before it arrived in Terran space and made contact with my grandfather. This particular Jemmin was appalled by its species’ mistreatment of lesser races.”
“Races like humanity.” Jenkins nodded grimly.
“And the Arh’Kel,” Vorr agreed.
“And at least three others,” Durgan said somberly.
Jenkins narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “I’m guessing the Vorr weren’t among them.”
“No,” the Vorr agreed, “we reached the stars on our own merits, and as a result proved less susceptible to Jemmin interference than less-developed species. We nonetheless attempted to integrate to the Illumination League, as it contained a diverse array of lifeforms with which we might cooperate for mutual gain. But it soon became clear the Illumination League is not a cooperative, but a hostile system used by the Jemmin against species which might threaten its supremacy.”
“There are currently only four member nations in the Illumination League,” Durgan explained. “The Jemmin, the Solar humans, the Finjou, and the Brek. The Finjou and Brek rarely come out of their home star systems, much like the Solarians…” he said leadingly.
“Which means,” Jenkins concluded, “that even if the Finjou and Brek are two of the other species the Jemmin uplifted, which judging by their behavior being similar to the Solarians seems likely, then…” He felt a shiver run down his spine at the implications of his thought’s natural conclusion.
“The third uplifted species is no longer accounted for,” the Vorr finished for him, her voice filled with sorrow and regret. “We have searched for this species, but the Jemmin control the only vessel capable of transporting the wormhole gates at speeds exceeding the light barrier. We must conclude that this species no longer exists.”
Jenkins closed his eyes as he processed her meaning. “You’re saying they might have killed off this third species and then removed the gate leading to its star system, essentially erasing all traces of their existence?”
“That’s our best theory, yes,” Durgan agreed. “Eventually, every advanced civilization’s activity leaves evidence that’s easily detectable, even at distances of tens of thousands of lightyears. But during the time it takes that evidence to reach us at the speed of light, there won’t be a single clue outside the Jemmin databanks that they ever existed.”
This was a lot to process, but Jenkins did his best to keep his feet firmly beneath himself while he considered the information being presented to him. Eventually, he formulated what was probably the most important question on his mind, which he put to the Vorr as candidly as he could.
“The Terran Republic is tiny,” he said emphatically. “We have a few dozen dreadnoughts, yes, but the Illumination League has thousands of warships. What use can we be to any Vorr plan that hopes to deal with the Jemmin?”
“We do not require Terran help to address the Jemmin problem,” the Vorr said confidently, and Jenkins wasn’t sure whether he should be more relieved or concerned to hear those words.
“This isn’t about the Vorr, Colonel,” Durgan said tightly. “It’s about humanity’s survival…and it’s about preventing a holocaust from wiping our species from the cosmos.”
“I don’t follow,” Jenkins said warily.
“We cannot, in good conscience,” Deep Currents of Radiant Warmth explained, “initiate action against the Jemmin while they hold your entire species hostage, as we believe it currently does. The Terran Republic is small, yes, but you hold the future of your species in your hands.”
“There is a planet,” Durgan explained, “which the Vorr think contains direct evidence of the Jemmin conspiracy. Even more important than the evidence, they are convinced there is a piece of technology there which will help us to save humanity from extinction at the hands of the Jemmin. The Vorr can’t risk being detected at this world for fear that the Jemmin will intercept and destroy the prize. I’ve already prepared the excavation equipment you’ll need for the dig. Bring back that tech, Colonel Jenkins, along with the evidence,” he said, his eyes blazing passionately, “and together, we can preserve the future of the human race and ensure Terran independence.”
“And what do you get out of this, Director Durgan?” Jenkins asked. “You’re obviously a patriot, but you’re putting your entire legacy and empire on the line. The contentious report launched by your new news network, the overt support of Armor Corps when the rest of the Terran government wants to sweep us under the rug, and now exposing me to enough information to sink you and your company indefinitely if I decide to go public? What’s your aim, Director?”
Durgan met Jenkins’ gaze steadily, and when he spoke, Jenkins was surprised to find that he believed what the other man said. “The Terran Republic has been exceptionally good to my family, Colonel. We have prospered unlike any other in human history, and it was made possible because of the most fundamental principles upon which our Republic was founded: justice, liberty, self-determination, and the freedom to chase the horizon no matter how dangerous that chase might be.” He shrugged, for the first time looking very much like just another human instead of the wealthiest person in all history. “I want to safeguard the opportunity for others to do as I have done—nothing more, nothing less—and if that means personally taking hold of the reins of government…well, that’s something I’m prepared to do.”
“Every tyrant in history has said something similar,” Jenkins said grimly.
“True,” Durgan agreed, “and I expect my coming weeks and months to be fraught with danger. In fact,” he added pointedly, “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if this was the last time you and I ever spoke, Colonel.”
Jenkins eyed the other man skeptically. “You think someone might try to assassinate you?”
“Might?” Durgan scoffed. “No, Colonel Jenkins. I receive credible attempts on my life at least once a week. But I expect those attempts to increase in both frequency and severity as I begin the work of peeling back the carefully-woven layers of corruption which conceal the rot in our Republic’s government. Which is why—” He produced a data slate. “—I’ve arranged a series of meetings for you with some of my friends, associates, and even rivals who might be persuaded to provide material support for your cause.”
Jenkins looked down at the slate, knowing that by accepting it, he was crossing a line from which there was no return. Director Durgan had committed nothing short of treason by secretly conspiring with the Vorr, and if evidence leaked about that conspiracy, it would taint everyone and everything which had ever touched Durgan Industrial Enterprises. As a military officer, Jenkins had sworn an oath to abide by the Terran Armed Forces Code, which included reporting potential threats to Terran sovereignty such as the one he had just discovered in the form of the Durgan-Vorr alliance.
But he had also sworn an oath to uphold the Terran Constitution and everything it stood for, and as he looked down at the data slate, he made the only decision he knew with every fiber of his being that he could live with.
Taking the slate in his hands, Jenkins said, “I’m going to need to include both Styles and Xi on this.”
“Styles, yes,” Durgan agreed. “But Xi…she’s too high-profile and, to be blunt, too unpredictable. She’s young, reckless, and has a history of flouting authority.”
“She’s also the finest young officer I’ve had the privilege to serve with in my entire career,” Jenkins countered, “and is the future of the Metal Legion. If you’re right about this evidence and technology holding the key to saving humanity from the Jemmin,” he said, waving the data slate, “and if I’m going to need to go fundraising while my people begin to dig
for it, then she needs to know what her mission really is when I deploy her at the head of my battalion.”
“Battalion?” Durgan scoffed. “Colonel Jenkins, you didn’t really think I’d send you on a mission to save the species with a mere battalion, did you?”
Jenkins eyed the other man for a moment before scanning the first screen of the data slate’s contents. His eyebrows rose in surprise at what he saw. Over a hundred mechs were listed there, and while it was clear many of them would need significant work to bring them to combat-readiness, at least two full companies were already at that level. Most of those vehicles were currently under lock and key at facilities whose owners he guessed were on the list of names Durgan had assembled for the “fundraiser” drive.
“I still need to inform Xi,” Jenkins said firmly after reviewing the itemized list.
Durgan seemed to consider the matter before extending his hand. “You’re the field commander, and I think it’s clear from the product of this meeting that I’m officially all-in, so if you think Xi can be trusted, then I’ll support that decision. I’m content to let my fate, and the fate of our Republic, rise and fall on your efforts. Are you?”
Put that way, Jenkins was unable to keep a knot from forming in his throat before he clasped the other man’s hand. “Yes, I am, Mr. Durgan.”
“Then let’s do this,” the magnate declared.
Epilogue: A Heart-to-Heart
Xi sat outside Colonel Jenkins’ office awaiting her CO’s return to the Dietrich Bonhoeffer following a short, previously unscheduled trip off-ship. No one knew where he had gone when he left four hours earlier, save General Akinouye who had personally authorized his sojourn.