Andaim frowned. ‘I thought that we were fighting.’
‘We are,’ Mikhain said, ‘but we’re only winning battles. We’re losing the war.’
Idris nodded. ‘We cannot do this on our own. Today, the Board of Governors voted to put our future to a referendum, to let the civilians decide by democratic vote whether we should continue on our own or attempt to approach the Galactic Council for assistance.’
‘The Council wants us dead,’ General Bra’hiv growled. ‘The Morla’syn told us that much, that the Icari Line was conceived to keep us away from them.’
‘Nobody is saying that it will be easy,’ Idris admitted, ‘but right now, facing what we’re facing, the only way for us to win this war is to recruit allies.’
‘We don’t have any allies,’ Mikhain pointed out. ‘Besides, we tried it with Taron Forge and his pirate buddies, and look how that turned out.’
‘Pirates and the Galactic Fleet aren’t quite the same thing,’ Evelyn said, speaking out for the first time. ‘The combined worlds could amass a huge armada, maybe enough to overwhelm The Word.’
‘Maybe,’ Andaim cautioned, ‘but certainly enough to blast us into history.’
‘Lazarus said that the council will destroy us,’ Teera added.
‘Lazarus also said that Akyram V would be a safe place to look for supplies,’ Bra’hiv countered.
Evelyn, and everybody else, looked at Emma. Even now Evelyn felt unusual whenever she looked at her sister, her every feature and expression like looking in a mirror. Emma was wearing civilian clothes, probably to help the rest of the group tell them apart, because they were otherwise utterly alike down to the finest detail. Both had short–cropped light brown hair, the same elfin features, the same green eyes and curious smile that could be both friendly and lethally dangerous by turns.
‘Despite his fears Lazarus considers it unlikely that the Council is unanimous in its desire to destroy humanity,’ Emma said. ‘It would serve no purpose and they would still then have to face The Word in open combat without the benefit of what we have learned of its weaknesses.’
‘So only some species want us dead,’ Bra’hiv replied. ‘That’s good then.’
‘If the council itself is divided over the fate of humanity, then how can we trust them when it comes to battle even if they do agree to act with us?’ Evelyn asked.
‘We don’t have much of a choice,’ Idris replied. ‘I have every expectation that the people will vote to head for Oassia, the Galactic Capital. My wife, as you all know, is their governing representative and she believes that they are more tired, afraid and in need of safe haven than they have ever been. I’m inclined to agree with her, and ask you to support the vote.’
Mikhain raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re agreeing with the governors?’
‘I’m agreeing that we cannot fight this war with one hand behind our backs,’ Idris insisted. ‘Atlantia and Arcadia are warships, not cruise liners. We need to be able to use them as such.’
Evelyn folded her arms as she looked at the captain. ‘You want the civilians off our backs.’
Idris sighed, but gave a little shrug. ‘If the Galactic Council can be convinced that we’re not the enemy, that the Legion is their foe and that we should be allowed to assist in its eradication, then our people will have a safe haven from which to begin again. There are many unpopulated worlds out there awaiting discovery – there is no reason we should not be able to colonize one for the future of our children, and theirs after them.’
‘And Ethera?’ Lael asked.
Idris’s expression became grim. ‘We take it back, or we destroy it ourselves.’
Andaim studied his boots for a moment. ‘We have a lot of issues to resolve. Both the civilians and the council are baying for Kordaz’s blood at trial, they’re screaming blue murder about us having Lazarus aboard and they’ve never been happy about an armed force of former convicts patrolling the ship. All of that’s going to count against us with the council too – they may demand some kind of compromise.’
Idris nodded. ‘I know, and we may have to bend to their will in order to gain their fleet as allies.’
‘We can’t give up Lazarus,’ Emma said with some force. ‘To do so would be as foolhardy as welcoming The Word aboard.’
‘Which is exactly what the Galactic Council will think we’ve done,’ Mikhain replied. ‘They’re not going to see it our way and to be honest I can’t blame them. Lazarus, no matter how well–meaning he might be, is a liability in too many ways to count and now he’s been wrong twice. We’re better off without the machine.’
‘We’ll likely be dead without it,’ Evelyn snapped. ‘Lazarus is the key to understanding The Word. Knowing your enemy is the key to winning battles, captain, or have you forgotten that?’
‘And a spy in the enemy camp?’ Mikhain challenged. ‘We still don’t know that we can trust him!’
‘I’d trust a man over the machine any day,’ Andaim admitted.
‘Lazarus saved my life,’ Emma shot back. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.’
‘You shouldn’t be here at all anyway!’ Mikhain blurted.
Emma’s anger was whipped away by the harsh strike of the captain’s words, and Evelyn stepped forward as one hand drifted toward her service pistol of its own accord.
‘None of us should be,’ she hissed at Mikhain. ‘We’re here because of each other, and like it or not that’s the way it’s going to be, understood?’
‘Are you threatening me, lieutenant?’ Mikhain snarled. ‘Because last time I looked, threatening a senior officer was punishable by…’
‘Enough,’ Captain Sansin growled. ‘We don’t have time for arguments. I need to know that you will all back me up when we reach Galactic Council space. We will be intercepted and likely threatened. We may even be fired upon. We must not return fire. We must make them aware that we come in peace.’
Evelyn looked at Andaim, who in turn looked at Bra’hiv. All eyes finally settled on Emma.
‘I will inform Lazarus of your decision,’ she said. ‘I doubt that he will do anything but offer as much assistance as he can.’
‘Are we all in agreement?’ Captain Sansin asked.
‘Aye,’ Evelyn replied.
A chorus of muted consent that sounded anything but content rippled across the officers.
‘Then let’s get to it,’ Sansin said. ‘Plot a course for Oassia, and we’ll await the decision of the people.’
‘What happens if they vote against it?’ Evelyn asked.
‘Then we’ve got another problem,’ Sansin replied with a tight smile. ‘But right now, they’re not my main concern.’
***
V
‘I don’t know what to think.’
Evelyn walked alongside her sister, Emma’s elegant white dress flowing like water in the breeze as they strolled through the sanctuary. It was one of the major benefits of super–luminal travel that all combat operations were ceased, allowing aircrews the rare chance to rest and recuperate before the next cycle of patrols and engagements.
‘You need to trust Lazarus,’ Emma insisted as they reached the brow of a low hill that overlooked the forested valley. Nestled deep within the woods were the homesteads of Atlantia’s civilians and the Governor’s Chamber, and beyond were the patchwork fields where the civilians grew crops in an attempt to sustain Atlantia’s compliment while away from external sources of food.
‘Trust,’ Evelyn echoed, ‘is a rare commodity these days.’
‘All the more reason to foster it wherever and whenever we can.’
Evelyn sat down on the grass and breathed deeply on the fresh air that circulated through the sanctuary. Many of the crew limited their time inside the dream–like sanctuary, unable to bear the grief of knowing that it was an illusion, that the billions of people who had once lived on Ethera were gone, that perhaps even the planet itself was now unrecognisable. Back in the day, so Evelyn had heard, some of the crew went insane d
own here, unable to leave, unwilling to accept that the world outside existed any longer, that they no longer had a home to return to. Two were found hanged in the forest, poignant suicides that unveiled the torment that Atlantia’s crew had suffered.
‘The civilians don’t trust the officers,’ Evelyn pointed out. ‘The officers don’t trust the civilians, everybody hates Kordaz despite the fact that he’s probably the most honourable soul aboard the ship, and nobody at all trusts the Marines of Bravo Company because they’re all ex–cons.’ Evelyn shook her head. ‘I have no idea what they think of you and I.’
Emma smiled as she sat alongside her sister.
‘I don’t care what they think. I’ve got you now, and you’ve got me. That’s something I never would have believed possible. Lazarus gave me a second chance at life and I’m not about to waste it.’
Evelyn smiled softly. Emma was something of the image of who Evelyn used to be: before the carnage of the apocalypse, before her arrest and imprisonment for the murder of her husband and child, crimes she had not committed. Back then Evelyn had dressed in similar clothes, had possessed an easy smile devoid of the shadows of grief that now clouded her thoughts. She realized that the person she had been was forever lost now, Evelyn a volatile mixture of feared former convict, fighter pilot and uneasy ally to Lazarus. Evelyn stared out across the sanctuary for a long moment before she spoke, checking around them in case anybody was listening.
‘I can hear Lazarus,’ she said.
Emma stared at Evelyn for a long moment. ‘Since when?’
‘Since we left Endeavour. I could hear a whispering all the time, calling me in. Not as loud as you, not as clear, but it was there.’
Emma thought for a long moment. ‘Lazarus engineered me to be his failsafe, in case he was overcome by megalomania as The Word was on Ethera. I don’t know what he did or how he did it, but since I’ve awoken from stasis I’ve been both his spokesperson and the one thing that means he can be trusted by humans. Lazarus can make no command and take no decision without it first passing through me – that’s why I hear him. But you, you have had no such engineering performed. How could you possibly be capable of receiving signals from him?’
‘I don’t know, and we need to find out,’ Evelyn insisted. ‘Do you know what happened to me, what The Word did to me on Ethera?’
Emma’s features darkened and she averted her eyes from Evelyn’s as she nodded. ‘Captain Sansin informed me of some of what happened.’
‘I was a reporter,’ Evelyn replied, ‘a damned good one. I was chasing up a story on the spread of a dangerous new street drug called Devlamine, and when I got too close to The Word it murdered my son and my husband and had me imprisoned for the crime aboard Atlantia. No trial, no due process. It put a mask on my face that silenced my voice by placing probes in my throat, the same mask that we found you wearing aboard Endeavour while you were in stasis.’
‘Lazarus used the mask to keep my airways open when I climbed into the escape capsule aboard Endeavour,’ Emma replied. ‘The per–fluorocarbon can become gelatinous over long periods of deep cold so it was considered the safest way to survive long periods of suspended animation.’
‘You’re sure about that?’ Evelyn asked.
‘I could have refused,’ Emma replied. ‘Why else would he have asked me to wear it?’
Evelyn stared down the hillside at the forest and watched the breeze move through the trees.
‘The mask doesn’t only silence the wearer,’ she replied. ‘Doctor Sansin discovered that it is capable of extracting genetic information. DNA, Emma, the very thing that would be needed to create a clone.’
Emma stared at her sister for a long time.
‘But Lazarus had no contact with The Word. That’s why he fled to Endeavour.’
Evelyn nodded. ‘So he says.’
‘You think that somehow my genetic code ended up back on Ethera, and from there…’
‘Was used to create me,’ Evelyn finished the sentence for her sister. ‘I was born immune to the Infectors, Emma. I didn’t know that of course, not until I was captured by Tyraeus Forge and he attempted to infect me and failed. Lazarus must have known what he was doing, and somehow managed to manipulate your genetic code to reject the Infectors before sending that code home. He was trying to destroy The Word from within, before the apocalypse could be started.’
Emma shook her head in amazement. ‘Have you told anybody about this?’
‘Not yet. I wanted to see what you thought before I brought it up. It explains why The Word wanted me out of sight so badly, was willing to risk exposure in murdering my entire family in order to get me under its control. My immunity was all that kept me alive because The Word wanted to study me and figure out how I’d become immune in the first place, and likely to see what Lazarus was up to. It didn’t get the chance.’
Emma’s face was enraptured with intrigue but Evelyn could see the questions racing through her mind.
‘But how did the genetic code Lazarus sent end up inside you?’ she asked. ‘He must have sent it to somebody before you were born.’
‘That’s what we need to find out,’ Evelyn replied. ‘If we’re heading to the Galactic Council, they’re going to want a damned good explanation of who we are and how we’re even possible, or they’ll assume we’re agents of The Word and shoot us on sight. Lazarus needs to explain everything or this is all off for us, you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Yes,’ Emma nodded.
‘You’ll back me up?’
Emma reached out and grabbed Evelyn’s hand. ‘All the way.’
*
‘The vote is in.’
Governor Gredan scanned an electro–sheet he held in one hand as data streamed in from a dozen automated polling booths that had been installed around both Atlantia and Arcadia to allow the entire ships’ compliment to vote in privacy.
‘What’s the verdict?’
Governors Vaughn, Ayek and Morle stood near the main table in the Governor’s Chamber and waited as Gredan finished scanning the document and looked up.
‘It’s unanimous,’ he replied. ‘Almost ninety per cent of the ship’s compliment voted in favour of the fleet approaching the Galactic Council and pleading for asylum and assistance in fighting the Legion.’
Vaughn nodded and ran a hand through his thick black hair. ‘Pretty much as I expected. Captain Sansin will hit the ceiling when he finds out.’
‘I doubt that,’ Morle said.
‘How so?’ Gredan challenged her. ‘He’s all for fighting this war with Atlantia at the forefront. He doesn’t want to hand control or command over to the council.’
‘He doesn’t want a couple of thousand civilians hindering his battle plans either,’ Morle pointed out. ‘If there’s nobody aboard but those who have elected by choice to wear Colonial uniforms, then he can fight the Legion just as he would have fought any other adversary back in the days of the Veng’en wars.’
Governor Ayek stared vacantly into the middle distance for a long beat and then looked up sharply at Morle.
‘If he intends to send the civilians elsewhere then we’ll have to go with them, which will mean…’
‘That Atlantia will be beyond our scope of influence,’ Gredan muttered and tossed the electro–sheet to one side. ‘Damn it, the old man’s trying to get rid of us. I should have known better.’
‘The captain knows what he’s doing,’ Morle insisted. ‘This is a warship. He can’t fight effectively with a civilian contingent getting in the way.’
‘And he’ll have full power in his hands with us gone too,’ Vaughn pointed out. ‘Sansin’s always resented our presence ever since the board was created. The sooner we’re out of the way, the sooner he can carry on as he wishes without any democratic checks and balances that a civilian contingent demands.’
Governor Gredan nodded. ‘And right now we need them more than ever, because Captain Sansin is the least of our worries.’
Gredan picked
up the electro–sheet once more and selected a new file which he activated as he laid the sheet down on the table. The data stream disappeared and was replaced with a recording that every person in the hall could see. In it, Captain Mikhain was seen entering the War Room of Atlantia, a secondary bridge buried deep inside the hull of all Colonial warships that allowed the command crew to maintain control of the ship in the event of being boarded and losing the ship’s main bridge.
In the recording, Mikhain was seen informing the legendary pirate Salim Phaeon of Captain Sansin’s plan to send a Veng’en to sabotage his compound on Chiron IV. Kordaz had duly been captured by the pirate and later infected by the Legion during a calamitous escape under fire from the pirate lair.
The Governors remained quiet until the recording came to an end and Gredan looked up at them.
‘It was agreed that we would maintain our silence over this matter, and our word given to Arcadia’s Executive Officer, Lieutenant Scott, that we would not reveal that it was he who brought us this recording. However, now that we’re approaching Galactic Council space and the rule of law once more, I must ask you all to re–consider our position on this matter. Mikhain is the traitor who exposed Sansin’s rescue mission on Chiron IV, a course of action that resulted in the deaths of many Colonial soldiers and civilians at the hands of Salim’s pirates and later an ambush by the Legion. Such a treasonable act surely cannot go unpunished?’
None of the governors spoke for a long moment, each of them weighing the consequences of speaking out against Mikhain.
‘If we reveal what happened before the Galactic Council, it may weaken our position in their eyes,’ Morle pointed out. ‘If our own house is not in order, what can they expect of us as allies?’
‘And we don’t know for sure whether or not Sansin knows about all of this,’ Ayek agreed. ‘If he does not, then he looks weakened before the council. If he does, then he looks corrupt and untrustworthy in command both before the council and the civilians: one rule for officers, another for the rest of us.’
Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5) Page 4