by G J Ogden
“This tribunal is now concluded,” announced Kagan, before rising and leaving the tribunal room through the judge’s exit to the rear. Provosts Tor and Duma followed close behind, leaving only Vika and Adra in the room. The lights remained low, maintaining the sinister shadows on each of their faces.
Adra did not believe Vika’s intentions were so Machiavellian as to spare her from the firing squad just so that she could enjoy the humiliation of Adra losing her rank and ship and privileged status. Vika did not know her, and Adra had not allowed Lux to get close enough to truly know what drove her and what she feared the most. Vika’s motivation must have been far simpler and purer. She wanted Adra to survive so that she could challenge her and take personal revenge for the death of her brother. That she had spoken for Adra in the tribunal did not matter, that was merely an act of honor in respect of her brother, relaying the testimony she believed he would have given at the tribunal, had he the opportunity. But it did not represent Vika’s own opinions, nor would it prevent her from issuing a challenge. In fact, as Vika knew just as well as Adra did, the only thing that would prevent Vika from challenging Adra was a direct line of reporting. Kagan knew this too and unlike his former adjutant, the High Provost always acted with calculated intent. By making Vika the adjutant to Adra, High Provost Kagan had taken from her the only thing she wanted. Blood and revenge.
FIVE
Adra felt no connection to her adopted home world and never had done. The Masters were a cold and clinically-minded race, which showed in the simplistic, yet crudely imposing architecture of the cities that blanketed practically the entire surface of the planet. And as she stood on the grand roof terrace atop the Warfare Command building, itself a stark and unimaginative black obelisk that rose fifteen-hundred feet into the steel-gray sky, dislike turned to resentment. She would never now be able to swap the anemic skyline in front of her for the blue skies she longed to see again on Earth.
In the centuries since the conquest and destruction of human-occupied Earth, Warfare Command, with the help of millions of worker simulants, had transformed the planet beyond recognition. The radiation had been neutralized and the devastation undone. But Earth was never to be a populated world again, at least not one populated by sentient creatures. Where cities had once stood, the Hedalt had returned the land to nature. In essence, Earth had been transformed into a planet-wide sanctuary and monument to the Hedaltus race, like a National Park, but on a global scale. Besides simulants and a small number of Hedalt wardens, only a privileged few were allowed to set foot on the surface. And only those who had distinguished themselves in service to the empire were granted permission to settle there upon completion of their tenures. This was an honor granted only to those in the military service. Those who toiled in scientific, artistic, engineering or other disciplines could never be eligible. Only a provost – one of the twelve on the Warfare Council, including Kagan – could receive such an commendation. It had been the sole reason that Adra had enlisted in Warfare Command from the scientific services. It had been the only reason she had spent over two centuries aboard starships – a location she detested only slightly less than the home world. Earth was a privilege that Adra had earned, through tireless devotion to duty and her exceptional contribution to the Hedalt Empire. She was due her rightful place on Earth. But thanks to Vika’s intervention and Kagan’s judgment, this future had been stripped from her. Vika would never know the depth of the injury she had dealt, and Adra would never let her see it.
Adra could at least take some satisfaction from knowing that Vika too had lost everything she had worked for. As adjutant to Kagan, Vika already held a status far above her age and rank, and if she had continued to serve the High Provost with distinction, she would have quickly ascended into the echelons of the provosts, leapfrogging others as Adra had once done. But now she had gone from adjutant to the most powerful figure in the Hedalt Empire, to adjutant to a disgraced and demoted former provost, who had only escaped execution because of her actions. For Vika, as it was for Adra, it was a stain that would never wash off. She had saved Adra, yet killed them both.
The rhythmic thump of boots stepping in time echoed off the obsidian walls of the terrace. Adra turned to see High Provost Kagan approaching, flanked by two combat simulants in amber-edged, full-cover armor. Following ignominiously behind them was Adjutant Vika, who had already lost the amber edge to her uniform. Without it, she looked somehow more ordinary, but Adra was not foolish enough to consider her any the less lethal. Kagan stopped a few meters short of Adra and rested his hands on the ice-smooth wall, staring out across the monochrome skyline.
“I never tire of this view,” Kagan began, sucking the cool, tasteless air into his lungs. The wind barely moved a strand on his slicked back, dark brown hair, which was always so pristine that it appeared almost metallic. Then he looked at Adra, “Do you know why?”
“I do not, High Provost,” Adra replied, distracted by the idea of throwing Kagan off the terrace. She wondered what sort of arrangement of blood and smashed flesh and bone he would create on the surface far below. She would have considered the attempt had it not been for the fact that combat simulants would have shot her dead before Kagan had even hit the ground. What would be the point of killing Kagan if I do not even live long enough to enjoy it? she considered. Besides, Kagan had done only what she had expected him to do. She did not blame him for his actions any more than she would blame a scorpion for stinging.
“Because it is the representation of conquest and dominance. It is the very landscape of our victory,” Kagan explained, adding inflections that made the words sound like poetry. “First, the Masters fell to our superior strength, and then the homo sapiens followed. Or so we thought.”
Adra remained silent. As a provost, she might have been able to comment her belief that the Hunter Simulant Program had been ended prematurely, but her new status offered her very little leeway. Kagan watched her carefully, and when it was clear that Adra was not going to respond he took a pace towards her and then stood with his hands behind his back.
“I stood on Earth, amongst the smashed remains of its cities, and crushed the charred and blacked bones of burned humans beneath my feet. I was convinced that we had wiped them out.” Kagan paused and then sighed. Even the breath escaping his lungs sounded like music. “It seems you were right after all, Vice Provost Adra,” Kagan continued. These were the last words that Adra had expected to hear, but she hid her surprise expertly. “So perhaps it is right also that you still have a role to play. A role that suits your unique abilities and experience. A role that allows you to make recompense for your offenses against the Hedalt Empire.”
“I am ready for duty, High Provost,” said Adra, intrigued to learn where Kagan was heading with this curious exchange.
“Then go to the Nexus,” said Kagan, “I want you to discover a method of tracing these signal anomalies with speed and precision, directly to the source, and to be able to purge them without drawing the anomaly through the Fabric to your location. This rogue simulant has become a virus and it must be eliminated, before it has a chance to infect the CoreNet. I do not need to explain to you the importance of the simulant network.”
“I will set to work at once,” Adra replied, once again expertly hiding any physical tells from Kagan that would indicate her surprise or satisfaction at the order. The idle time she had spent on the home world while awaiting the tribunal had already given her ample opportunity to study this problem. And so she already had a solution, in theory. The Nexus would give her the chance to test the theory. But, she had no intention of letting Kagan know this; once he had extracted from Adra everything he needed, she would be of no further use, and Adra would be sent thousands of light years away to patrol the empire’s outer reaches. She had no intention of spending the rest of her life in such obscurity.
“Then your new ship awaits you, Vice Provost Adra,” Kagan replied, melodiously, “as does your new adjutant.” Kagan turned and curled hi
s index finger into a hook, beckoning Vika over. Adra’s new adjutant arrived smartly and stood tall, though the tension in her shoulders and neck betrayed her obvious discomfort. “As soon as you discover how to trace and purge these anomalies, you are to inform me without delay,” Kagan added, addressing Adra only. He then turned his back on them both without acknowledging or even looking at Vika, and marched away, passing between his two combat simulant escorts, which spun sharply on their heels and pursued with robotic precision.
Adra turned her back on Vika too, knowing that there was a risk of a knife in the back, but also knowing that she had to assert her authority over this new adjutant quickly and – if necessary – brutally. But if she had read Vika correctly, killing Adra in such a dishonorable fashion was not her style, nor would it satisfy her thirst. Vika would want to beat Adra, and would want Adra to know she had been bested before the light left her eyes. But there was another reason Adra had turned, which was so that she could peer up into the cloudless sky at the Nexus, clearly visible orbiting the planet. Although Adra despised the Masters almost as much as she did humans, she could not fail to admire their extraordinary technological achievement in creating it. The Nexus was a space station the size of a planetoid, and it was directly responsible for controlling each and every one of the billions of simulants in operation on the innumerable ships, space stations and planets that comprised the Hedalt Empire. Every super-luminal transceiver in the galaxy fed directly into the Nexus, which acted like a hive mind for the lobotomized simulants. It allowed them to perform the many complex and varied functions that were essential to the smooth functioning of the empire. Everything from farming, to medical skills, to starship piloting were possible only because of the Nexus. Without it there would be no simulants, with the unique exception of the four high-functioning models that Adra had designed. These had been granted independent thought, so that they could operate autonomously, adapting and thinking and using their intelligence to seek out surviving pockets of humanity. Despite its incredible capabilities, the Nexus was no more intelligent than a data pad. It was simply a giant computer, incapable of the sophistication of a fully-formed mind. But its unique connection to the CoreNet and to every super-luminal node in the galaxy also made it the ideal tool to trace and purge the signal anomaly, should it appear again.
“I am ready for duty, Vice Provost Adra,” came the voice of Adjutant Vika, after it had become patently obvious that Adra was not going to acknowledge her presence.
Adra was impressed that Vika had managed to expel the sentence with at least some level of sincerity. She kept her back to Vika and continued to stare up at the Nexus. “Go to the ship and get it ready for launch.”
“Yes, Vice Provost. What is our destination?” asked Vika.
Adra turned slowly and met Vika’s eyes. “Our destination is wherever I tell you to go,” she snarled. “You do not ask questions. You obey. Is that understood?”
Vika peered back into Adra’s piercing green eyes; the tension between them was explosive and on a hair trigger. It felt like if either had taken a step towards the other, a chain reaction would start that would blow the top right off the black obelisk in which they stood. Vika wanted to kill her, but she also believed herself better than Adra. Stronger. More honorable. More worthy. Now was not the proper moment. But she vowed that the time would come when Adra would lie broken at her feet. She bowed her head by barely half a degree, and said, “It is understood, Vice Provost.”
SIX
AWar Frigate loomed large in the center of the viewport, plasma cannons trained on Adra’s Destroyer-class battleship, while it waited for their security codes to be approved. The vessel dwarfed her own new ship, like an eagle staring down at a starling, but it wasn’t just any frigate – it was Adra’s former command. She did not know to whom Kagan had assigned it, as the vessel had merely communicated brusquely via text only, ordering her to remain stationary or be destroyed. The indignity of being made to wait was only made worse by the fact it was her former ship that was doing the enforcing.
Adra had always hated living in space, subjected to the constant drone of starship engines and power conduits. But at least the powerful and advanced War Frigate had been well equipped, and had even afforded her a level of subdued luxury. The Destroyer-class battleship was dated and rudimentary in comparison, but at least Adra could take some solace from the fact its smaller engines produced a more tolerable drone.
“Clearance has been granted, Vice Provost,” announced Vika, as the menacing form of the frigate began to power away. “We are to proceed to docking level alpha.”
“Proceed, Adjutant Vika,” said Adra from her position on the small command platform in the center of the bridge. It was a far cry from her lofty perch on the War Frigate. Gone was the halo of screens above her head, to be replaced by a single static screen on a pedestal to her right. And instead of rows of gleaming consoles crewed by dozens of simulants, there was only a single engineering control station and tactical console, in addition to the solo pilot’s console. Vika was stationed alongside the pilot simulant and was responsible for all other ship’s fuctions. The indignity of the situation had not been lost on Vika either; Adra had seen the disgusted look on her face the first time she had set foot on their new bridge.
Adra did not consider herself to be prideful, but she could not deny the profound shame she was experiencing at the reduction in her status and her humble new surroundings. That she was able to tolerate it at all was for one reason. Adjutant Vika’s misjudged intervention in her tribunal, followed by Kagan assigning her to the Nexus, had provided the opportunity to finish what she had started. From staring defeat and death in the face, events had conspired to give her a second chance to destroy the humans – though this time it would be purely out of spite, and not to save her own reputation. The latter was in tatters, never to be repaired.
Adra again had to remind herself that she did not believe in fate, though it was becoming harder to accept that all the different strands that had led her to this moment were merely the work of chance.
Vika rested her hand onto the shoulder of the solo pilot simulant, one of only two active simulant crew required to operate the compact, timeworn vessel, and the ship began to accelerate towards the artificial planetoid. Vika watched as the frigate slipped off the edge of the viewport to give an unobstructed view of the Nexus behind it. The radiance from the system’s yellow star reflected crisply off its slowly rotating shell, flickering like firelight reflected in metal.
“We will arrive on-station in five minutes, thirteen seconds,” Vika added, glancing down at the small console on a pedestal to her side.
Adra did not reply, but continued to observe her new adjutant closely. The act of resting her hand gently on the shoulder of the simulant, rather than knocking or nudging it into action as was the norm, was one of many traits that distinguished her new adjutant from others of her rank. Since Adra had assumed command of the Destroyer, Vika had executed each of her commands with the grace and elegance of a master of ceremonies, and had impressed in all areas of her duties. The similarities to Lux were almost nil; she lacked her brother’s questioning nature and stuttering indecision. And although Lux had possessed fortitude enough to endure super-luminal travel, it was clear that in pure physicality Vika was by far his superior too. But, none of these traits were as important as loyalty to Adra. In the end, Lux had proven his worth, through a selfless dedication and belief in his commander – his superior. Even if they spent the next two decades together, Adra knew that Vika would never see her as superior or even equal to her. Resentment would grow, day by day and year by year. She wondered how long Vika could maintain her pretense of respect and follow Adra’s commands, when under the surface she yearned to rip her throat out.
Vika attentively observed the pilot simulant as they entered the inner structure of the Nexus, passing through the airlock gate, before finally setting down with a vibrant clunk on their designated pad. “Docking compl
ete. Proceeding to shut down and secure main engines,” said Vika, tapping commands into her small screen, before turning to face Adra, hands pressed to the small of her back. “I await your orders, Vice Provost.”
Adra was aware of the subtle and deliberate manner in which Vika always stressed the word, ‘Vice’ with added prominence. “Your orders are to follow me, Adjutant,” replied Adra, stressing Vika’s rank with a similar level of condescension, “and to stay out of my way.”
“It would be my pleasure, Vice Provost,” said Vika in a way that made it clear she would find no enjoyment in it whatsoever.
Adra held her eyes for a moment, willing Vika to make a more overt show of disrespect, but the Adjutant merely stared back, blankly. Adra silently cursed her and then turned and marched off the bridge, making the short walk to the rear cargo ramp that lead out into the docking bay. She noted the rhythmic thump of Vika’s boots following behind, in perfect time with her own.
Adra was familiar with the layout of the Nexus, though she had not set foot on it for more than a century. The Nexus had been where Adra had completed her initial work on the human-simulant hybrids and also where she had first uploaded the control programs to the CoreNet. It operated autonomously for the most part and was unoccupied, save for a complement of Hedalt technicians from the scientific and engineering disciplines, who were its custodians. But the majority of functions were performed by a small army of lobotomized simulant workers who performed the regular and more laborious tasks.
Adra swept through the maze of corridors and sectors inside the vast complex and headed directly for her old research laboratory. Given the scale of the Nexus there was room enough for a thousand laboratories, and so she knew that her lab would have remained untouched, despite the passing of centuries.
As she continued, she again found herself admiring the simple, functional design of the Nexus. It was a masterful feat of engineering. An icosahedron over sixty kilometers in diameter at its widest point; it had operated tirelessly for eons. But the most remarkable aspect of the Nexus was its inexhaustible power source. At its core the Nexus harnessed a tear between normal space and the sub-layer that comprised the Fabric, sucking energy from one into the other. This not only gave it an unending source of power, but it was also the reason for its unique ability to connect directly with every super-luminal node in the galaxy, like neural pathways in a brain.