The tiny repair robots had sealed all the leaks in the outer hull but were stuck outside when the bay door closed. They hibernated for now. Renosha wanted them to repair the graviton engines, but that would require them inside.
Before the doors locked, Governor had collected the two men and taken them deep into the ship, a warm and quiet place to guard them. He did what he could about the decompression sickness.
Thwarted by a tight bolt, Renosha dropped a tool and scowled in disappointment. Hawking’s chatter filled his mind. Only some of it actually applied to the mechanics of repairing a graviton engine, one of the most complicated machines ever invented, but it was Hawking’s way of contributing. As Renosha picked up the tool, he felt a sensation that somehow encompassed both bottomless dread and undying hope. He didn’t know the sensation’s origin. In the recesses of his damaged memory banks, he felt something akin to familiarity. The door to the engine compartment opened as if on its own.
A little later, the docking door opened and bright light poured in.
Renosha faced the tunnel of light. A stately figure stood before him, wrapped in a jet black cloak with a pattern of red alien skulls. Its ornate helmet had two glowing, white eyes – one on top of another. The figure drew back its robes, revealing sculpted armor over a bipedal form. It pointed a rod at Renosha and waved, indicating to move aside. The figure strode onto the Eye of Orion as if it owned the ship.
The alien scanned left and right. Soon more figures came down the boarding tunnel. The next four were dressed in flowing cloaks and complex armor wrought of unknown materials. The sixth figure also wore a headdress of eyes. At the entrance, she nodded to Renosha. He bowed in return.
Soon the door to Steo’s quarters opened. She walked in with a regal posture and leaned over Steo. She sniffed him and whispered, “You who they call Steo, you should know, you’re a troublemaker. I hate fools and I hate man-things. You can’t win, Steo. This fight is beyond you. It doesn’t make me happy to know that, but I see now that you won’t stop. You can’t turn away. It is a large universe and win or lose, your intrepid bravery will be forgotten. Your knowledge will die. Therefore you present me with an unfortunate choice. A choice that may result in the destruction of your species and mine.”
To her people she said, “Take them all: three humans, a tirrian and three automatons. This one goes with me.” She expected not a word of doubt from her scions.
Gravity and energy returned to the Eye of Orion. When the ship drew in air and the vents kicked in, to Renosha, it was as if the ship began breathing again. When the running lights came up, it was if blood flowed through its veins.
One of the aliens said, “There is one we cannot remove. She is locked in a shell in the bridge.”
The female leader went to the bridge to see. One person, the tirrian Yuina, had been laid carefully on the floor.
“That is the pilot,” the female leader said. “Who is in the shell?”
“Records show that as the ship decompressed, the pilot put someone else inside for protection. It seems to be the navigator.”
She surveyed the blond-and-blue haired tirrian. “Soulless, child? I think not. You saved your friend at the risk of your own life and thought no one would ever know. I know. I will remember. And my knowing may sway the fate of the galaxy.”
Hawking helped them unlock the shell and free Glaikis. The people were carefully hovered like corpses out of the ship and down the long white tunnel. Yuina, Glaikis and Cyrus were taken one direction to a medical center, and Steo another direction.
His unconscious form was brought to the edge of a large room, which was taller and deeper than it was wide; the entrance was in the middle. Tree-like branches and platforms allowed a runner and climber to move around. The room was dim, the ceiling darkened like a night sky with sparkling stars.
The leader and the figure in the black and red cloak entered. Her cylindrical robots followed. She jumped, grabbed a branch and swung up. She ran and jumped, platform to platform. The cloaked figure and pillar robots followed, maintaining Steo’s hovering form between them. The exercise would have been impossible for any human except perhaps those at the peak of physical perfection. Cyrus would have been challenged to follow.
She stopped on a platform she found suitable. The cloaked figure pulled himself up next to her, and the robots brought Steo.
“The man-thing breathes,” said the cloaked figure. A press of a button retracted his flowing cloak. He removed his helmet, revealing a furry face with twitching ears. “He is weak.”
Ema, the Gleen mother, removed her helmet. “He is not as weak as you would assume, my alpha scion.”
“His injuries are life-threatening. The others, they suffer from exposure and decompression, but they will recover. This one will die,” he said unemotionally.
“If we don’t intercede on his behalf.”
“What of the other beings in this solar system? Will we intercede on their behalf?” He and his kind had stood by and watched entire species wipe themselves out. He had seen death and suffering and done nothing.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
The robots made noises like chirping birds, reporting Steo’s condition to the two Gleen. Steo was sweating but his lips were cracked and dry.
“What is that?” the male said, his ears perking up. “He has a liquid processor installed and it ruptured? This is dangerous territory! These man-things play with forces beyond their comprehension.”
Ema already had a grim expression but she was now alarmed. “I despise touching these things,” she said, yet reached forward and pressed a finger against Steo’s neck. She retracted it and said breathlessly, “Yes. He did it. He is slightly psychic now.”
The robots chirped.
“It was apparently installed improperly,” her son said. “By all rights it should kill him.”
“We could repair the installation. He would survive.”
The alpha shifted from foot to foot, a sign of uneasiness. “Mother Gleen, I am your alpha scion, your firstborn and most loyal adherent. I respectfully request permission to express doubts.”
“Speak, brave Ura.”
“Our automatons say this is a special processor, the powerful symbolic kind, much like the ones we use as our ships’ core. They operate with crowd logic and can perform leaps of deduction.
Our history has shown how dangerous using these processors can be. Our ancestors who experimented with them died. Even the most powerful couldn’t control them without going insane. So we limit them to ships because only they can control vessels of this size. This man-thing has one larger than that installed in his central nervous system. It is like finding an alien with a nuclear power plant where his heart should be.”
“You have introduced your rhetorical speech, Ura. Go on with your case.”
“The processor even improperly installed has granted the man-thing psychic power. Properly installed, you know what it might do.”
“I do not know.”
“Your point is well-taken. No one knows what it might do,” Ura said. “This combination of a being capable of single-handedly joining with the galaxy’s most powerful processor would bring about a technological singularity! He would gain greater-than-human mental abilities. It would introduce superintelligence into the species. The man-things would evolve suddenly, beyond what they are now. Past that moment, nothing can be predicted.”
“He has succeeded in handling it so far. He can do it, I know he can.” She searched Steo’s face.
“You can choose to save this man-thing. That is your choice and no one can refute it. However if you repair the processor, and finish the installation properly, you will be called to task by the Council of Gleen Mothers.”
Ema said nothing. She didn’t look at her son. He was fast, strong and smart. She relied on him because he had good foresight and exercised good judgment.
“Unless …” Ura said. “You don’t mean to call this one the …” he stuttered. “Do you
mean to declare man-things as the ally species?”
Ema knew her first son was hard to rattle. He was a warrior who had saved her life in terrible conflicts too awful to imagine. Even the most arrogant alpha scions deferred to his judgment, not only for what he said but what he didn’t say. Ura could stand up and a room of scions would go silent.
She spoke. “We are Gleen, and we remember. We are at war. Since our discovery of the dark ones, which some call the skewers, we have sought a means to defend against them and protect not only intelligent life, but wisdom. Nothing has worked. Intelligent beings throughout the universe are mere playthings to the dark ones. Our statistical models show that intelligent life is rare because they kill it at whim.
We have surveyed the sapient species in our galaxy, and most of those in this. It is rich with intelligent species, whereas ours has only the Gleen and a few still without interstellar flight. Our search has been to find what our most powerful mathematicians have predicted: we need an ally. With their vast databases and processor ships, our mathematicians calculated that the Gleen cannot win this fight alone. In the end, the model says, the dark matter monsters will win. Whether it is a million years from now or a billion, they will snuff out all thought. They will consume all wisdom. That is the prophecy and that is why I brought you, my sons, to this system.
Long ago, I was wrong. I was one of the Council of Gleen Mothers who voted to reject man-things as the ally species. I agreed with the rejection of tirrians, croymids, v-kuay and ezwegians as well. These species couldn’t be the children of our prophecy. They were ugly and violent, prone to laziness and base beliefs. They still don’t know to run instead of walk, and truthfully that raises my hackles.
The mathematicians agreed. The models didn’t identify man-things as the allied species. They were wrong too. I tell you now Ura … the proof lies before you.”
Her oldest son couldn’t believe his ears. “Because he can command a processor?”
“Not only for that, but that is part. I have watched Steorathan Liet on his journey and decided his values exceed what we thought his species capable of. Given the opportunity to kill, to end a problem with violence, to take the easy way out, he never flinched. He chose to use rational thought, even emotional arguments to try to save lives. Steorathan Liet values his enemy’s life. He is a warrior who chooses war last.
He has moral character and unending strength of will – enough to endure the pains of the processor connected to his nervous system, and enough to cope with the mental force it gave him. I am confident that he can take the entire brunt of the installation and come out the other side a new man. THE new man.”
“How did it come to this? How has this chance occurred?” Ura said in awe. His species memory was largely male-oriented and he had difficulty calling up memories from his mother’s side.
“Perhaps it is simply time. When we met last, I took a memory-copy of Renosha, his Senex robot. Using our own techniques, we recovered much of his memory and added our own records. We know much about the lost civilization on Zivang.
Renosha carried an injector with the special processor in it. However it wasn’t Renosha’s purpose to use it. His purpose was to prevent its use!
You see, the civilization that Renosha guided on Zivang were technophiles. They worshipped cybernetics and gadgetry. They founded their colony in order to explore technology’s limits. They perfected the liquid, crowded, symbolic processor and used it on themselves. It was the corresponding insanity that destroyed them. The madness of that civilization is long spent. Those who remember those chaotic times no longer live. Renosha had the last processor. His duty was to warn man-things against going down that path!
However time passed. What was common knowledge to that generation of humans is now dust. Millennia eradicated Renosha’s memories and destroyed his knowledge. He forgot his purpose. Upon finding the device, he thought it was to be used. He remembered that weaker minds were corrupted or destroyed. Only a person of great will and strong moral character could use the dangerous item. So when he met Steorathan he tested the man-thing and made the choice. Somehow Steorathan was injected with the processor incorrectly. Here we are. Whether this turns out for good or evil is now left to me.
We need not any ally, but a powerful ally that can add their strength to our own. Some man-things may be able to merge machines into their minds, and become superintelligent. This force may be what we hoped for, the chance to stand against the dark matter beings and push them back.”
“What of the other Gleen Mothers who proposed man-things as our ally?”
“One proposed it. Others supported her. We voted her down. Her premise was that man-things weren’t fully evolved. She proposed exposing them to the Molting Mutagen. The substance, not understood anymore than liquid processors, triggered rapid growth. Creatures exposed to it lost vestigial parts and seemed stronger and healthier versions of their species, paragons if you will. However they always became feral. The animals it was tested on became aggressive and voracious.
She had proposed that the natural adaptability of man-things would allow them to survive the process. If they did, they could become the ally species. We objected to testing the Molting Mutagen on intelligent beings for the simple loss of knowledge,” she explained.
“When you propose that man-things are the ally species because of their values and strength of character, plus their ability to absorb the liquid processor, that will open doors of thought.”
“We are Gleen and we remember, so the others will remember why we have laws against testing. We remain as close to our true nature as we can, never resting or becoming lax. Biotesting is against our nature. However if the Mothers are swayed, I have a way to stop that, though I’m not sure it is one I wish to take.”
Ura considered this for a long minute. “Many will die. How long would we have?”
“Trillions will die in this galaxy alone. The mathematicians’ prophecy predicted that once we chose an ally, the likelihood of an attack by the dark ones would surge. The time will be measured in years. Even using dark energy they can’t gather for an attack in less time. They have never been confronted before, in billions of years of history. They won’t wait, but they won’t be coordinated for a while.”
Ura said, “I have stated my concerns. You obviously have thought them through and are here to make a decision. Know that I will support you no matter what.” He knelt before his mother.
She breathed deep, gazed upon the stars above and snorted. “Then remember this: by healing this man-thing, I declare humanity the prophesied ally species. He will be restored to full health with the proper install of the special processor.” The weight of her words seemed great to Ura, as if a fundamental law of the universe had shifted.
“We are Gleen, and we remember,” he said. “What do you wish of me?”
“Stay. Summon your brother Yhil.”
She turned now to Steo. The robots descended and began the healing process. Steo had long, painful hours ahead of him.
Meanwhile Ura, alpha scion of Ema, transmitted a message to Yhil, one of his younger brothers. Yhil was the slowest of the brothers and spoke little. He was often Ema’s choice to deal with other Gleen. The soft-spoken Yhil seemed humble to them, and didn’t challenge the egos of other Gleen Mothers.
Yhil soon arrived. He made the leaps and swings up to the platform.
“Mother Ema,” he said with a bow. He acquired bowing from some species and liked it, but Ema didn’t complain. Ura sniffed at the non-Gleen behavior.
She said, “Yhil, tertiary scion, I need you to perform a valuable mission: call the Council of Gleen Mothers. Take your ship. Encrypt everything.”
“What if they choose not to come?”
“They will come. Tell them this: I have chosen the ally species.”
He tilted his head slowly this way and that, and shifted his feet. “That will make them come. It will take time.”
“It will take years. You choose the place f
or the council meeting. I respect your judgment.”
He bowed again and left.
Ura said, “The Gleen Mothers will challenge you.”
“You and your other brothers will begin preparing man-things immediately. You are free to do so as best you see fit. I have trained you well. There is important work. By the time the Mothers gather, we will be well on our way.”
“What if they put you on trial?”
Ema drew a long breath and let it out. “You have an added mission. Call my mate.”
Ura was shocked. He had been in battles on the edge of supernovas yet he had rarely heard his mother make such an important decision. The choices she made that night could only mean the Time of Changes was near.
Ema spoke again, confirming his spinning mind. “If the Gleen Mothers seek to put me on trial for making this decision without them, then I will bear a daughter.”
Like all Gleen Mothers, Ema had only sons. Eons of meditation and self-control had imbued female Gleen with the ability to control their offspring’s gender. The threat of bearing a daughter was what kept Gleen society stable. It was a complicated, political process.
Ura had only met his father a few times, and would personally seek him out to deliver the news. He knew his father would not refuse.
Ura stepped to the edge of the platform and grabbed a branch. He said proudly, “I am Gleen, and I remember. Thank you. My scions will remember that I was here.”
“You were here,” Ema closed her eyes. “When the Cosmogenic War began.”
CHAPTER 38
New
Stabbing pain didn’t bring Steo any closer to consciousness. His body’s defense mechanisms reacted to the foreign substance, and tried to reject it. The gel crept up his spine, seeking a hold. Where it met resistance, it oozed around it. The stinging caused white blood cells to flood around the liquid processor. Hurt, muscles convulsed. Agitated, nerves fired. The gel stretched along the length of his spine to the base of his brain.
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