Playing God

by Sarah Zettel

  “You didn't know we'd go to war,” Praeis finished for her. “Of course not. You thought you had us all managed, didn't you?” She waggled her ears to say she was teasing, but there was an edge to her voice that grated across the back of Arron's mind. “I've been called back to t'Aori to explain the situation to the Queens.”

  “I can send you down maps and diagrams of the other caches,” said Lynn, as if only anxious to be helpful. “Or you can have them call up here anytime.”

  “Thank you.” Praeis dipped her ears. “But I can handle this much.”

  “Have I ever doubted how much you can handle, Praeis?” Lynn's voice softened, and even Arron was ready to swear she meant it.

  There was a pause, and Arron saw Lynn's pleasant smile flicker. “Of course not,” said Praeis. “I've got to go before I breathe in too much poison.”

  “Call up, soon, Praeis. Let me know how you and Theia are doing.”

  “I will.” Praeis cut the connection.

  Before the screen had completely blanked, Lynn turned back to Arron. He stared at her. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. His hands had gone cold. Who was this woman? This was not Lynn. It couldn't be.

  He gestured weakly toward the comm station. “I cannot believe you did that.”

  She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. “Look, Arron, I do not want to argue about this. I'm…”

  He took two steps toward her. He was too close for Human politeness, but he didn't care. She did not step back. “You're sitting up here deciding the fate of the Dedelphi. You're planning out their every move and correcting them when they go wrong. Why don't you just get yourself a throne and a beard, declare yourself God, and finish it!”

  “I am saving lives,” said Lynn in a tightly controlled voice. She stayed where she was, and Arron found he had to step back from her.

  “You're running lives, Lynn!” He paced around the comm station chair. “You wouldn't even tell Praeis what you're doing!”

  “Of course I didn't tell her! I…”

  “You what?” asked Arron softly. “You didn't want her to know how far it's gone?” He grabbed the back of the chair with both hands. “You didn't want her to tell some of her sisters what was going on in case they'd rebel against you?” Her eyes glowed dangerously. Arron leaned toward her. Don't you see it, Lynn? Listen to me, I'm just trying to make you see! “They scared you, Lynn, admit it. You found a situation you couldn't manage, and you got scared. Now you're determined to make the whole planet behave like you want, so you don't have to be afraid of it anymore.”

  “If we don't do something, they are all going to die,” she said, enunciating each word carefully. “I am not going to kill them. Are you? Are you going to say they're all better off dead?”

  “No, of course not.” Arron ran both hands across his stubbly scalp. Why can't you hear me? “All I am saying, all I have ever said, is that they need to make their own decisions!”

  “They did, Arron!” Lynn slammed her hand down on the comm-station keyboard. “They decided to bring us here!”

  “But not for this!” He flung out both hands.

  Lynn's teeth bared, just like a Dedelphi's. “Yes, for this! Exactly for this! They asked us to save them, and we're going to!”

  Arron leaned over the chair. “Lynn, the corp isn't interested in saving them. The corp is interested in—”

  “Spare me, Arron.” Lynn held up both hands and waved him back. “They're not dealing with the corp now. They're dealing with me.”

  Arron stared, stunned. She believed it. She really believed Bioverse had just stepped aside and left everything in her hands.

  “Well”—he swallowed hard—”I guess it's all right then.”

  “No, it isn't.” She shook her head. Her shoulders slumped. For a moment, Arron saw how tired she was, but she rallied and pulled herself up straight again. “It's not all right, but it will be. Don't try to call them again, Arron. Things are too… delicate. We just can't let you in there; we don't know what will happen.”

  She left. The door swished shut behind her. Arron stayed where he was, wondering what else he could have said, what else he could have done. Was she really too far gone for him to reach anymore? Had she been that badly scared?

  Had he really lost her, too?

  Lareet woke to the sound of sisters screaming.

  She shot bolt upright on the mattress. Umat was already at the window. Around them, dayisen, trindt and irat sat up and twisted their ears around, trying to make sense of the sound.

  “What is it?” asked Lareet. As she spoke, a thick smell reached her. It was like mildew and rotting fungus. Her nostrils pinched themselves closed.

  “Something's happened to the river.” Umat ran for the stairs.

  Lareet jumped up and snatched a tunic from off the clothes chest as she pelted after her sister. She shrugged into it somewhere between the foot of the stairs and the open door and headed across the lawn to stand beside Umat.

  Naked as a fisher in the rain, Umat dug her toes into the grassy riverbank near a cluster of sisters. The dawn was just starting, and the dome was turning light blue, but there was already plenty of light by which to see what had happened.

  The river, the beautiful, clear, sparkling river, was now thick with brown sludge. It bubbled and swirled like the worst contents of an open sewer. It was the source of the smell that permeated the air. Dead fish rocked on the surface like toy boats.

  Umat stared. Her mouth opened, but it was a moment before any sound could come out. “Mother Night,” she whispered. Then, she collected herself. “Ovrth Ond, Ovrth Brindt, get to the command center, tell them to get a team down to the water recyclers immediately to try to find out what's happened. Trindt Mnat, take some sisters and see if all the tap water is the same way.”

  Something brushed Lareet's shoulder. She swatted at it angrily. A yellow leaf drifted down to the grass under her feet.

  Yellow? She looked up. Another leaf swirled down from the tree she stood under. The strengthening light showed her that the green foliage was heavily speckled with unhealthy yellow blotches. Small drifts of dead leaves lay piled on the grass. Lareet looked closer. The grass was yellowing, too. In places, pale, blobby mushrooms studded the ground.

  “Umat”—she straightened up—“we will need to check the gardens as well.”

  The news, when it came to the command center, was not good. All the water was affected, on both sides of the ship. A little potable liquid could be created by a slow process of repeated boiling and filtration. No one had to point out that without sterile water, all the medical experiments would grind to a halt, but Lareet saw the faces of the irat who came in to report. They were all thinking about it.

  The fungus that was taking over the lawns and strangling the trees had indeed gotten into the gardens. They were now havens for corpse grey mushrooms that split open with the stench of methane and scattered clouds of brown spores everywhere.

  Their city. Their beautiful, lovingly made city was rotting around them.

  “We can do without the gardens, if we have to,” said Umat, her ears flicking back and forth. “We can eat the artificial rations the Humans left. It's the water.”

  “It's other things as well, Sister,” said Lareet gravely. “Have you smelled the air in the cities? The stench is getting stronger. It's going to be unbreathable very shortly. If we cannot get the filtration system going, we will be forced into pressure suits and clean-suits.” She paused and decided she did not need to add that there were not enough for the entire complement aboard.

  “We could load the extra personnel into shuttles and send them back home.” The shuttles’ computers hadn't been sabotaged. The autopilots had assured their best flyers they could get back to the Hundred Isles, even at the acceleration and trajectory that would be reached when the ship was moving full tilt.

  If only we could teach the city-ship to be so cooperative. Lareet shook her head. “Dayisen Umat, if we send anyone out now, they'll
be picked up by the Humans, or the Parliament. If anything goes wrong, they'll be exiled, or killed. We still need to wait.” We need to wait until we are sure this will work. Until we know our sisters will go home heroes. So I can stand beside you as long as possible and breathe you all the way into my womb for our daughters to remember.

  “How did they do it?” Umat flung her arms out.

  Lareet frowned down the tunnel. Where there had once been green grass, there were now sickly brown mushrooms. “Some of those jobbers must have carried spores. The rest of the attack was probably a diversion.”

  Umat turned eyes and ears toward her. “Then we are once again out of time.”

  Lareet dipped her ears silently.

  Umat faced the coders. “Can we move the ship yet?”

  “We can move it,” said Dayisen Ksenth. The head of the coders’ dawn shift looked down at the miles of broad paper ribbon lying curled on the central table. “We can start the engines anytime we need to—”

  Umat cut her off with uncharacteristic impatience. “Can we move it where we want it?”

  Dayisen Ksenth's ears crumbled. “That's still theoretical.”

  Lareet touched her sister's arm. Umat's skin rippled, but she gave no other sign of noticing Lareet. “How much less theoretical will another two days make it?” Umat asked.

  “Not much,” the dayisen admitted. “We unfortunately do not have the luxury of a test flight.”

  Lareet felt the uncertainty ripple through her sister, and her own skin bunched up in answer. “It was always a risk, Sister,” Umat said, as if they were alone. “I think the Humans did this to discomfort us. What will they do when they really want to root us out?”

  Lareet lowered both eyes and ears. She already knew what Umat was going to say next, and she could not think of one valid reason to prevent her.

  “Give the orders to the engine room, Dayisen Ksenth,” Umat said in a calm, level voice. “We are moving now.”

  Chapter XIX

  Commander Keale sat at the conference table in his office with Captain Esmaraude. A 3-D of the Ur hung on the video wall between them.

  “Start with the engines to be safe.” Esmo spoke each word as if it hurt. Keale was sure it did. The Ur was her ship, and here they were talking calmly about dismantling it.

  “It wouldn't be that safe,” countered Keale. “One blast out the back jets and the crane ship will be a floating heap of slag.”

  “Not if the crane goes straight in.” She tapped the hangarbay doors. “And gets straight to work. It'll take the pogos a minute to figure out what's going on, and I guarantee you they're not going to be turning the jets on quickly. If we warn the crane's crew what to expect, they'll be able to get the ship well out of the way of any blast.” She frowned. “Cranes steer like pigs, but they're a lot faster than city-ships.”

  Keale nodded. “Okay, straight in and go for the engines. Now, we can probably expect them to deploy some jobbers in response—”

  “Commander Keale,” the room voice cut across his sentence. “Receiving transmission from sat-net beta.”

  Keale's throat closed. Beta was the mini-net they'd thrown up around the Ur. “Room voice, open station and display.”

  He spared a brief glance at Esmo, who kept her face perfectly blank. The station screen lit up and showed the vacuum, the Ur, and the twin plasma jets burning out of her nozzles. Keale imagined he heard the infrastructure creak as the ship lumbered forward, gathering speed.

  “Room voice, emergency thread to Lieutenant Ryan.”

  Ryan must have been sitting on top of a station because it was barely ten seconds later that his image appeared on Keale's screen. “Yes, sir?”

  “Ryan, the Ur is on the move. We need a shuttle out to track it, at maximum range, you understand me? I don't want anybody crowding that ship to get a close look. We just need to track its course.”

  Ryan's pale cheeks went paper white. “Yes, sir,” was all he said, though, and he cut the connection.

  Keale turned back to Esmo. “The net's not mobile, so it'll be out of range soon,” he said ruefully. “Even I didn't think they'd get it moving this fast.”

  Esmo leaned against the conference table and folded her arms. She tapped her fingers against her own forearm. “Do you have any idea what they're doing?”

  “I've got a really good guess.” He touched three keys on the board, and the view on the wall screen switched from empty vacuum to the creamy sphere of Dedelph.

  Esmo paled. “Kaye, you don't think…”

  Keale met her gaze. “You've got enemies that have plagued your family since time immemorial. You've just taken control of a rock weighing several hundred million tons. What would you do with it?”

  “Drop it on them,” said Esmo,” grimmer than Keale had ever heard her. “How'd they think of it, Kaye? They don't even have spaceflight.”

  “No, but they've been throwing things at their enemies at least as long as we have.” His fist tightened.

  “Have you got anything you could go after them with?” asked Esmo.

  Keale slumped into the station chair. “Plenty. I've got hundreds of completely unarmed shuttles. I've got an engineering fleet four days away. I've got just under four thousand people armed with nonlethal force. I've got all of that.” He looked at the sphere. “And none of it is any good.”

  “You've forgotten something,” said Esmo.

  Keale lifted his gaze from the screen. “What?”

  Esmo bit her lip, then said, “Another city-ship.”

  Keale felt a strange calm cover him over. “Use another ship to ram the Ur?”

  She nodded. “And soon. If they get too close to the planet, the collision will pour debris and fast-particle masses all over Dedelph.”

  She seemed distant, her words a little unreal, but this was real, he told himself. This was more real than anything else he'd ever done. “How many people does it take to fly one of those?”

  She shrugged. “Two people and one functioning AI can do it for short distances.”

  He met her eyes across the gulf his unwilling mind had created. “Can you teach me what I need to know in time?”

  She blew out a sigh, considering. “You're shuttle-rated, aren't you, Kaye?”

  He nodded.

  “Then, yes, I can.”

  “All right. We can take the Manhattan. It's unoccupied.” Esmo nodded. “I'll break the news to the admiral.”

  “I'll get the authorization from the veeps, so you can back up what you tell the admiral.”

  Her eyes sparkled behind her spectacles with icy amusement. “You know, they might not let us do this.”

  Keale shrugged. “Then I'll be extremely interested to hear the alternate plan.”

  They both stood up. He opened his mouth, but she waved him quiet. “It's my job, too, Kaye, more than it is yours. They terrorized my crew. They shot Rudu's leg off him. They took my ship out from under me.” Her face went hard and he could see the fury burning hot and alive in her black eyes. “I am not going to let them get away with that.”

  “I'll meet you in the hangar at fifteen hundred then.” His station beeped twice at him.

  Esmo jumped a little. “What's that?”

  “Something I've been keeping track of. That planetsider, Cabal, has been snooping around the private web. I had a thread drone on his back getting the proof.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It's probably not worth it, but I'll send somebody around to get him. See you at fifteen hundred, Esmo.”

  “Fifteen hundred.” Esmo left.

  Keale sat down at the comm station and typed in a brief command to call up the thread drone that had let him know it was finished with its job. Business as usual. Attend to security matters. Keep everybody and everything safe. Don't think about the suicide run you've just signed up for. No. Don't think about that.

  “All right, Mr. Cabal,” said Keale, suddenly grateful to Cabal for providing a distraction. “Exactly what have you been up to?”

&nb
sp; Praeis walked beside Theia into the Debating Chamber. Everything was the same; marble tables, mosaicked floor, portraits of the Ancestors looking down and the Queens looking expectantly up. What was different was the air in the room. It quivered, with both anger and anticipation. What was also different was the way that Armetrethe hovered behind the sofas the Queens occupied. Five other Council members stood like sisters beside her.

  Armetrethe's cold eyes confirmed what Praeis had suspected all along. She was not being called to report, she was being called to account, and not by the Queens alone.

  Oh, Sister, my behavior has finally become too heavy for you to bear? Her flesh settled against her muscles with a sick heaviness. Theia pressed close to her. Now they both knew for certain why there had been no letter in response to the news that a sister and a daughter had died. Armetrethe had been too busy working on this meeting.

  Praeis closed her eyes and raised her hands. “I am returned as ordered, Majestic Sisters. When I left, the strategic situation was as I laid out in my last report. The Humans’ presence has successfully warded off any Getesaph attacks. The infestation is being eradicated, and our arms-sisters are working ceaselessly to refit and repair their equipment and return our fighting capability.”

  She waited for permission to open her eyes. It didn't come.

  “Yes, your reports have been quite regular,” said Aires Byu smoothly. “Perhaps you meant this as compensation for your irregular actions.”

  Praeis felt her throat close. To her surprise, Theia spoke. “Forgive me, Majestic Sisters. I'm sure my mother understands your meaning, but I, ignorant and childless as I am, do not.”

  “You do not?” inquired Vaier Byu. Her voice was heavy and reluctant. Since the Queens were addressing Theia, Praeis opened her eyes.

  Vaier Byu was clutching Aires's hand. “I will explain, then, since your mother has not.” She looked at Theia, but her ears focused completely on Praeis. “Praeis Shin t'Theria began a military action without orders from her Queens. She has used the lives and resources of her Great Family for her own purposes. After which, she entered into a private contract with the Humans to immobilize our military so they could serve their real partners in the Hundred Isles.”