The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga)

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The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga) Page 31

by Christopher Hinz


  "She's gotta be the one,” said Nick, his face beginning to flush with excitement. “The timing fits. Maybe Ghandi and his crew actually ran into this Colette down on the surface. Maybe she and Ghandi killed his other clan mates, then transferred up to the cylinders in Ghandi's shuttle, along with our nasty tripartite."

  Inez nodded. “And they brought the sunsetter with them, ready to be introduced into the archives in order to seek out and destroy Freebird."

  "You got it,” said the midget.

  "Could she actually be a tway of Sappho?” the Lion wondered aloud, disturbed by the possibility that he may have actually met their most formidable Ash Ock adversary.

  "It's possible,” said Nick, staring off into the distance. “Jesus Christ ... Sappho herself. After three centuries, we just may have found the invisible bitch."

  "Of course, her role in the Paratwa manipulations has been greatly redefined,” pointed out Huromonus. “The information from Freebird makes it clear that Sappho is just one of a great number of these Os/Ka/Loq."

  They had fallen silent for a time, again struck by the monumental and far-reaching aspects of what had been learned from Freebird. That wealth of information compiled by Aristotle still seemed too enormous to accept.

  Huge Os/Ka/Loq space vessels scouring the galaxy, seeking habitable planets to reseed. A tway of Sappho transferring herself into human form, becoming the creator of all Paratwa. The occurrence of the Apocalypse as a deliberate aspect of far-reaching Os/Ka/Loq plans. The Star-Edge fleet retreating from the devastated Earth, not to colonize other worlds but to rendezvous with Sappho's seed ship, the Biodyysey. A probe vessel from that Biodyysey resting at some unknown location on the ocean floor. Alien manipulation on an incredible scale.

  The Lion shook his head, abruptly returned his attention to the Irryan chambers. Huromonus was beginning to address Council, as planned.

  "I believe we must take immediate offensive actions,” urged the E-Tech director. “By ‘immediate,’ I mean ‘right now'—before we resume discussions with Meridian. The Paratwa must be shown that we are committed to fighting their invasion."

  "What do you propose?” asked Losef.

  Huromonus made his pitch. “I would like this Council to authorize those fifteen advance targeters, which are already in assault position, to launch an all-out attack against the Biodyysey."

  Losef glanced at Van Ostrand then back to the E-Tech director. “I remind you that this Council has a verbal agreement with Meridian not to initiate conflict."

  "I am aware of that agreement. But our own interests must take precedence. We must launch an attack so that the Paratwa realize the severity of our commitment."

  Van Ostrand frowned.

  Losef said, “Whatever your rationale, the Paratwa will quite properly be angered by such a rash and uncalled-for action."

  "Let them be angry. I request an immediate vote upon my request."

  "As Council president, I object to any vote ... at least until Meridian has been permitted to address us."

  Inez said, “I second Councilor Huromonus's motion for an immediate vote."

  The ICN director stared coldly at Inez. Losef's limited procedural powers had just been overridden. “Very well, we shall vote. The ICN votes no. Let the record also show that we find this sudden call for a vote on such a serious issue to be ill-advised, ill-defined, and perhaps ultimately devastating to the safety of the Colonies."

  "I vote yes,” said Huromonus.

  Inez nodded. “Yes. Attack the Biodyysey immediately."

  The Lion clinched it. “I also vote yes."

  Had the occasion been less serious, the Lion actually might have enjoyed Losef's reaction. It was rare to see the ice dyke misplace her iron control.

  "This is absurd,” said Losef, turning to the FTL screens. “Jon—do you wish to register a vote?"

  Van Ostrand did not try to hide his bewilderment. “I'm not sure that an immediate attack is warranted—"

  "Decidedly not,” snapped Losef. “And in this situation, you are not only a councilor of Irrya, you are the highest ranking field commander. On a tactical level, you are far better able to assess the pros and cons of such an attack ... an attack whose inspiration would appear to be politically motivated."

  Good, thought the Lion. In the heat of the moment, Losef believes that the rationale behind our actions is a direct result of the massive protests occurring throughout the Colonies. She assumes vox populi underlies our decision.

  The Irryan citizenry had been driven into an anti-Paratwa frenzy by a truly odd combination of factors. The Order of the Birch, who opposed any peaceful settlement with the returning binaries, had certainly contributed to the political climate, as had the powerful freelancers, most of whom sympathized with Birch ideals. The Paratwa themselves, through the rampages of the tripartite, had also advanced the cause. The Ash Nar assassin had carried out its mass killings while boasting of loyalty to the Order of the Birch. Not until Freebird was cracked had Nick finally and truly grasped the myriad significance of that association.

  And finally, the conspirators themselves—Nick, Huromonus, Inez, and the Lion—had leaked information that advance targeters of the Guardian fleet had come within striking distance of the massive Paratwa ‘warship.’ That news had exploded across the freelancer channels, providing even more fuel for the massive protests.

  It had been Nick's idea to call the Biodyysey a warship.

  Social manipulation on a grand scale, the Lion mused. The ancients used to call it ‘playing god.' But he quickly reminded himself that their efforts remained distinctly amateur when compared to the century-spanning variety of manipulation practiced by the Os/Ka/Loq.

  Huromonus went on. “Our decision is not politically motivated. We believe that the Paratwa must be shown that we are deadly serious."

  "Ridiculous!” charged Losef.

  The Lion agreed. But, he hoped, both Losef and Van Ostrand would conclude that a decision to attack the Biodyysey was politically motivated. Van Ostrand, especially, had to be convinced that Huromonus, Inez, and the Lion had an ulterior motive. If Van Ostrand learned the entire truth—the truth contained in Aristotle's Freebird—the Guardian commander could very well act in a predictable military manner, thus dooming their only chance for victory.

  Losef regained her steel composure. “Jon, on a tactical level, you must follow your own experience regarding this proposed assault. If, in your mind, you perceive that such an attack would be, at this time, militarily detrimental to our cause, then you must refuse the order of this Council."

  The Lion, Huromonus, and Inez remained silent. They had discussed this very possibility—that Losef might encourage an outright refusal of a Council edict. They had decided that a vocal reaction, however appropriate under the circumstances, could very well do more harm than good. Van Ostrand had to be very delicately nudged into doing the right thing.

  The Guardian commander was obviously displeased by the entire chain of events. He turned sideways, began a private consultation with someone off-camera—probably Admiral Kilofski, his chief of staff. Static poured from the FTL speakers as a wordwand came to life, blocking the audio transmission and visually distorting Van Ostrand's mouth to nullify lipreading.

  The Lion stared at the screen, grimly aware of just how much hung in the balance. Two men, in an op-base satellite out past the orbit of Jupiter, were very probably making a decision that would determine whether or not the human race had a future.

  Finally, Van Ostrand deenergized the wordwand and returned his attention to chambers. “For the record, you may register my vote as an abstention. But it is my duty to carry out the dictates of this Council. I will order the advance targeters to immediately open fire upon the Biodyysey."

  The Lion released his breath. Huromonus and Inez appeared to share his relief. Losef ignored them all, concentrated on her terminal. The ICN Directors’ Board was likely making note of its collective displeasure.

  Inez faced the FTL
. “Jon ... how many Guardians are aboard those fifteen targeters?"

  "There are about three hundred crewmembers altogether,” replied Van Ostrand.

  "Wish them our best,” said Inez, in a voice so utterly calm that someone who did not know her well might have perceived her response as callous.

  But the Lion did know her well. He heard the harsh emotional control.

  Their collective decision to sentence the men and women of the targeters to death had not been an easy one. Inez, Huromonus, and the Lion knew what the others could only guess at: the Biodyysey would annihilate those fifteen ships with no more effort than it might take a human to dispose of a swarm of trapped flies.

  It has to be.

  The Lion typed into his own terminal, informed Nick that events were moving according to plan.

  O}o{O

  Empedocles slept for a time, relishing the pure sensations of physicality, feeling his chests softly rising and falling as lungs processed oxygen with the unique synchronicity inherent to Paratwa. He slept primarily to refresh his bodies. His mind required no such repose; he remained alert throughout his rest period, analyzing information, formulating previously vague ideas and concepts into precise plans of action. He slept the dreamless slumber of the Ash Ock, thinking effortlessly about what needed to be done.

  When he awoke, Timmy was there, standing at the edge of the sleep chamber, the bloated face filled with anxiety. Empedocles was not certain whether Timmy was merely eager to continue with the enlightenment process or if the fat creature actually realized that today was to be his last day of life. Either way, it did not really matter.

  Timmy led his tways to the large chamber where the Gillian/half had first discovered the bizarre plethora of stasis-frozen life-forms. The three large and erratically configured windows along the wall remained transparent.

  Inside the first circular tomb rested the grouped stalagmites containing Sappho's earliest genetic experiments; chamber two held the Ash Ock scientists: Yoskol, Eucris, and his wet nurse, Sasalla. Timmy ignored both arenas and walked directly to the third section of visible wall, the one occupied by the solitary ten-foot-high stalagmite.

  His proctor rubbed a fat palm against the opaque section immediately above the jagged window. Inside—within what Empedocles now knew to be the standard Os/Ka/Loq version of a stasis egg—the lone stalagmite began to crystallize, revealing its contents. Observing from two oblique angles, Empedocles gazed with fascination as the dark blur rapidly achieved clarity.

  Timmy did not have to speak; Empedocles knew that they were looking upon the original Os/Ka/Loq form of Sappho's tway, the half who had transferred her consciousness into the human form of the plenary. And although this Os/Ka/Loq was in a condition of stasis, it was not asleep.

  The encapsulated alien writhed. Every square inch of its bluish-green flesh seemed to be an independent entity, coiling and twisting and bubbling; the entire epidermis squirming as if a million snakes were crawling beneath its surface. A multifunctional conglomerate of semiautonomous organisms, all telepathically linked, all contributing to a commonality of function and purpose. Cooperation of the fittest.

  Empedocles, with gestalt comprehension, realized that the breadth of Timmy's earlier description did not do justice to such a creature. This pulsating and twisting mass lacked earthly corollaries; its radical dissimilitude served instantly to render all other familiar life-forms into a distinct subset of their own. He now perceived the greater—and more subtle—meaning of that Os/Ka/Loq word, kascht, which served not only to describe place but to indicate a form of biological classification above the taxonomic realm of kingdom: one kascht contained all of organism known to have originated on planet Earth. And another kascht encompassed the naturally telepathic conglomerations that had arisen on the home world of the Os/Ka/Loq.

  The alien appeared to be nearly nine feet high ... or perhaps nine feet long, for Empedocles had no way of judging whether it had an innate gyroscopic sense of “up” or “down.” The creature had no legs; instead, it rested on a bulkier mass of squirming flesh at its base, which tapered gradually into a somewhat flattened hemisphere at the top. He suspected that its present shape was a mere adaptation to current gravitational conditions. In fact, to such a creature, the concept of shape would be simply another useful variable; more than likely, it possessed an elasticity resembling that of chilled mercury. Its telepathic infrastructure would be capable of rearranging the body to suit most any environmental condition.

  There was no indication of whether the creature possessed a means of locomotion, but again, Empedocles knew instinctively that it would be able to move in a variety of ways: by crawling, hopping, or rolling; perhaps by generating temporary legs to imitate human ambulation. Probably, it could even readjust its cooperative structure into an aerodynamic configuration, soar through the skies. Or adapt a hydrodynamic profile, swim through waters of any density. The very essence of this Os/Ka/Loq suggested a degree of locomotion unimaginable within the limited constraints of an earthly kascht. By comparison, the human form appeared truly lacking.

  Timmy shook his head slowly. “An amazing creation. From time to time, I've seen appendages come out of its body. I've seen it exude sensory organs, of an enormous variety. Over the years, I've seen at least a dozen specialized eyes temporarily emerge from beneath its skin, each unit or set incredibly different in appearance, each eye undoubtedly capable of monitoring a different portion of the electromagnetic spectrum. Other organs have come and gone as well. Each one usually forms for only a short time, before beginning its slow dissolve back into the basic infrastructure.

  "I've seen mouths, sometimes two or more distinct ones issuing from its flesh simultaneously. I've monitored sounds emanating from those mouths, heard a variety of outcries, some utterly novel, others strangely familiar. I've listened to things that have sounded like the cackling of crows, and more frequently, the braying of horses. Sometimes three or more mouths have evolved to perform in tandem, creating rich harmonic textures, an Os/Ka/Loq music of sorts, almost beautiful in its strangeness. And there have been other sensory nodes, some so totally unfamiliar that they bordered on the grotesque, so alien that I could not begin to guess at their function."

  "The true tway of Sappho,” murmured Empedocles. “But why does it exhibit life while it remains within stasis?"

  "An apparent contradiction,” Timmy agreed, “but the telepathic makeup of an Os/Ka/Loq requires this. Preserving a human being within a stasis capsule involves creating a dormant condition for only one unified complexity of life, and freezing that unit at a molecular level. But an Os/Ka/Loq is composed of perhaps millions of separate entities, in complex telepathic interrelationships with one another. I believe that there is no way for an Os/Ka/Loq to be deeply frozen without doing great harm to its holistic aura. An Os/Ka/Loq stasis capsule, like most aspects of their technology, is radically different—true molecular freezing does not take place. It it did, I suspect that the Os/Ka/Loq would begin to disincorporate."

  "What is that?"

  "Disincorporation would cause the millions of different organisms, which compose the creature, to begin separating from one another and seek out new configurations. Eventually, if the disincorporation reached a certain critical threshold—if enough discrete organisms abandoned the main body—the Os/Ka/Loq would die. The escaping organisms would reincorporate into other forms.

  "The Os/Ka/Loq actually utilize this concept of disincorporation at a social level. In fact, disincorporation forms a basic political tenet of their civilization. Within their communal structure, minority points of view are tolerated only to a certain point. If a particular group of Os/Ka/Loq, sharing like-minded objectives, begins to lose cooperative support within the larger social framework, those minority Os/Ka/Loq may be made to suffer limited disincorporation, both as a punishment and as a warning that their collective viewpoint has drifted too far from the Os/Ka/Loq center."

  Empedocles continued staring at the writhing crea
ture within the chamber. “And this organism possesses no consciousness. That aspect of its being has been transferred into the plenary?"

  "Correct. You are looking at a mere body of Sappho, not her mind and spirit."

  Empedocles pondered for a moment. “If this creature were to be disincorporated right now, would Sappho's plenary also die?"

  "No. The plenary has now become the true half of the Os/Ka/Loq Sappho. The monarch is an authentic hybrid. In a certain sense, Sappho's transferral into human form was actually a limited type of disincorporation. What remains within this chamber is merely an empty shell. The plenary can never return to her original body. The earthly half of Sappho will be in human form for the rest of her life."

  Empedocles nodded both heads. “Then this place is indeed a museum."

  "Yes,” said Timmy quietly. “A repository for lost bodies or souls."

  Empedocles arched his heads away from the Os/Ka/Loq. “How did you first enter this cell? Does Sappho know that you've come here?"

  Timmy chuckled. “If the plenary knew that this cell still existed, she would have emptied the oceans to locate it. No, there is much that Sappho does not know. She may not yet even realize that a tway of Aristotle has survived her betrayal."

  "Tell me the story of this betrayal,” urged Empedocles, acknowledging a new sense of urgency. He was whole again, restored to Ash Ock fullness. And Sappho and Theophrastus remained complete entities as well. “Tell me what happened to you."

  Timmy looked appropriately sad. “Yes, I suppose it's time.” He reached up and popped the microprocessor eye out of its fleshy envelope, deposited the glimmering white orb in his waist pocket. Within the eyelid, a slip of transparent flesh descended like a miniature window shade, the membrane blotting the dark well, protecting the exposed depths. The eyelid itself remained open.

 

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