by Webb, Nick
Nhean gave a tiny shake of his head. Don’t interrupt. He did not want to remind either Walker or Ka'sagra that they were being watched.
If Parees was worried that Ka'sagra would send them away, he need not have been. The priestess went to a chair behind the altar and sat, eyes fixed on Walker. There was a small smile on her lips.
“An interesting sentiment.” She considered it. “We would say … that my kind cannot be free, either, while we bind you to this life. We, too, are caged.”
“What do you know of being caged?” Walker whispered. “You grew up on Earth. You had food to eat and air to breathe, and you needed to rely on no one for that. You kept humans within sight of the planet, binding their hopes into the shape of what they had lost. You made Earth … the prize they could never win.” Her voice was thick with hatred.
Nhean looked away, fighting for calm.
“Grew up on Earth? My sweet child.” Ka’sagra smiled. “I am over three hundred of your solar years old.”
“I watched my kind begging for scraps.” Walker interrupted, ignoring the alien’s explanation. She was shaking now, her tiny frame rigid. “You handed them food, and they asked you about Earth. They asked what the sky was like. They asked about sunlight. That was the torture you inflicted on them by your very presence. We were locked here, we were denied anything that might have given us a better life and you tried to half-fill our bellies and call it a kindness.”
Ka'sagra said nothing. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her strange eyes were alight with something Nhean could not name. What would a Telestine think when they heard such a thing? What did it feel like, to have a lifetime of work thrown back in one’s face?
“When this is over, I want a new future,” Walker told her. “We can’t survive by looking back. It’s killing us. We can only look forward. We can only strive for something that has never been, that is what the future holds for us. And you—you’re just dangling the past in front of us because you know people would do anything, say anything, behave however you want, if you promise them Earth.”
Parees clenched his hands. “The Daughters of Ascension—”
“Peace.” Ka'sagra's voice was kind. She looked at Parees. “I have spent many years seeing humans swallow their pride for no purpose. She is right that my priestesses have not brought peace to your kind. But that is because peace is beyond us. The peace we strive for can only come when humanity is united, and the Telestines are also united, and it cannot come while humanity accepts the way the world is now. She is right.”
Walker’s lips parted in confusion. She looked at Nhean’s face, and looked away again hurriedly when she saw the expression in his eyes.
“I would speak with Nhean alone,” Ka'sagra said. She waited while Parees ushered Walker from the room, and then she stood, sweeping close enough that Nhean could smell the alien scent of her. “You are afraid,” Ka'sagra told him.
Nhean said nothing. For the first time in a very long time, he felt entirely out of his depth.
“You fear your own kind,” the priestess murmured. “What is that like?”
Nhean swallowed before he could stop himself, and tried to recover. “Telestines do not fear one another?”
“Some do, perhaps. I never have. My religion, as you call it—” she appeared to find the word amusing “—provides with a clarity others might not feel. I know that others disagree with me. I know that perhaps they believe they work against me.”
“But it’s all part of your grand plan?” Nhean joked. His smile faded when she did not laugh.
“There is only one plan,” she said simply. “The fate of the world, of the universe, of reality itself, has already been determined. You know this. We must simply live in the moments that lead to it.” She studied him. “That does not comfort you?”
“No,” Nhean said shortly.
“Hmm. You are a puzzle, as other humans would say.”
“Why do you do this?” He shook his head at her. “All of it. You learn our words. You give us … she was right, you give us scraps. Is it because this is all you can give?”
“What else would I give?” She tilted her head, a human gesture that looked freakish on her alien body.
“You could have told your kind not to accept Tel’rabim as the new leader,” Nhean said harshly. “With the goodwill you use to secure us donations, you could have argued for more than just supplies. He does more harm to us than you could possibly undo with comfort and food. If your goal is to save us from death, then he is your enemy.”
To his surprise, she laughed at that. “None of us in this world are enemies, no matter how much we might think we are. We are all players in a greater game. Tel’rabim has his purpose, and it is important. Even if it were in my power to do such a thing as unseat him, I would no more destroy him than I would destroy your Admiral Walker. And, as you know, my purpose is as a missionary. An emissary of peace. I distribute food and I urge my kind to be merciful. That is all.”
Nhean stared at her.
“There is a war coming. Nothing can stop that now.” She approached the altar and spread out a map, weighting it with chips of rock. It was the solar system, shown as if the planets lay in alignment, human settlements dotted in red throughout. Her eyes traced over the lines. “You fear your Admiral Walker for the same reason you need her—she sees clearly. She understands the game the way few others ever could. The way Tel’rabim does.”
“One miscalculation is all it would take.” Nhean’s lips felt numb. “She could sign our future away with one wrong choice.” He looked at Ka'sagra's peaceful face and felt fury and panic well up in himself in equal measure. “She hates you. She hates all of your kind, how can you not see that? That hatred will drive her to—”
“Exactly where she needs to be.” The priestess cut him off. “Do not fear, human. Every choice you make is as vital as the choices she makes.”
“Vital? You said it was all set in stone already.”
“A curious saying, given where we are.” She made the expression he had come to think of as a smile. “The path to peace holds pain, Nhean. It will require you to lose everything you have and everything you have wanted. But heaven requires no less from us all. You were sent to Walker just as she was sent to you—together, you will give humanity the strength it needs to bring peace to us all. Do not fear what she is. Aid her. The battle to come needs you both.”
Nhean was used to dizzying his business prospects, ushering them through presentations and out the door without giving them so much as a chance to ask questions. Yet somehow, it was now he who found himself outside the temple, blinking in the corridor, with the words of Ka'sagra's ceremonial farewell still in his ears: May you not waver from the path, and may the ascension come by your hand.
He looked back at the door, considering.
Ka'sagra, an alien woman who prayed for peace between the humans and the Telestines, had no fear of Walker or Tel’rabim. She did not think either of them could keep the world from peace—and from prosperity and a new home for humanity. Surely that should reassure him.
It did not. Behind all the flowery words and beyond her encouragement, one truth remained: Ka'sagra did not intend to help them with their immediate goals.
And Nhean was not about to accept that.
Chapter Thirty-One
Vesta, Low Orbit
VFS Santa Maria
Hangar bay
McAllister took a pull of Princess’s home-brewed alcohol and nearly spat it onto the metal floor as laughter echoed off the metal beams. They were tucked away in the corner of the hangar bay, Tocks draped over one of the folding chairs, swinging a leg idly, while Princess perched on a ladder. They hadn’t taken these sorts of liberties in the first days they were here, but Santa Maria was now beginning to acquire the scratches and dents necessary to resemble a real ship and not a spotless Venetian luxury liner.
And real ships, as Princess said, had secret brewing operations in the hangar bay.
Mc
Allister took another swig from the repurposed canteen jar and, again, resisted the urge to spit it out on the deck. It was nasty stuff, and he was fairly sure he tasted a hint of engine grease, but it worked to take the edge off.
Right now, that was all he wanted. Keeping the edge off meant he could smile at his crew and say all the stupid, meaningless things that made them laugh and got them fired up. That kept them alert and alive. Keeping the edge off meant that he could push through another day, get one step closer to winning the future the rest of them wanted.
Then he could be done. He could rest.
They turned to look as footsteps approached. The sound slowed, hesitant, and McAllister looked over to see one of the newbies hovering a few yards away.
“Hey, there.” He tried to remember her number in the roster. “Eight, was it?”
“My name’s Niya,” she offered. She’d let her tight dark curls free of their bun and they hung around her head like a mahogany lion’s mane. Her rich brown skin was offset by the blue coveralls they’d all been given for off duty. “Woodson,” she added. “If you prefer the last name.”
“No one goes by their name except this guy,” Tocks informed her, jerking her head at McAllister. “First or last. Everyone gets a call sign. We just got too many of you at once to name you all.”
“Didn’t want to spend too much time on it until we saw which ones of you were going to die in the first battle,” Princess agreed. He caught McAllister’s sharp look and shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
Tocks snickered softly.
Niya gave him a look. “Well, I survived.”
“That you did.” Tocks stared her up and down speculatively. “You were the one flying spirals to stay out of the line of fire on your targets, weren’t you? I liked that. Don’t get too many people who want to try that one.” She looked around at McAllister and Princess. “Whaddya think of Twister for her?”
“Twister.” McAllister thought back to the battle. “Not bad.”
“I like it,” Princess agreed. “So. Twister. What can we do for you?”
“The bunks are full of new people. I just wanted to get out of the crush.” She shrugged.
“Well, have a drink.” McAllister handed over the canteen jar. “The rule is if you spit it out on the floor, you have to clean it up.”
She took the jar and sniffed hesitantly at the mixture before jerking her head away.
“Don’t smell it,” Princess said. “Lord.”
Twister managed a small sip before handing it back.
“So the new crew members are freaking you out?” McAllister gestured to one of the chairs and watched her as she sat. “You’re pretty new.”
“I know that. But—was it like this on the older ships? This one was half-full when I came on. Now it feels like it’s got too many people.” Twister looked out at the hangar bay as the deck crews and pilots hurried back and forth. “Where are they getting them all?”
“Well, we kind of blew the lid off the secret fleet thing when we attacked Earth.” McAllister took another gulp and handed the canteen to Princess with a wince. Despite the taste, he’d drink it all if he kept holding it. He’d been drinking a lot more since Mercury. He shrugged at the newbie. “So it’s not like we can’t recruit anymore. I guess Essa’s making a big deal about it. Better than … What’s-his-face. The guy we had before. Dude who wanted us to surrender.”
“Solokoff.” Tocks had her eyes closed and her face turned up to the light.
“Yeah. Him.” McAllister shrugged.
They’d had an endless stream of spineless Secretary Generals, practically identical with their hopeless eyes and their eerily similar speeches. Hell, for all McAllister knew, there was just one speech, and they all left it in the top desk drawer for the next Secretary General who came along.
He looked at the newbie. “So I’d say it’s going well, all things considered.”
“Still. Are we going to be able to feed them all? Do we actually have enough bunks?”
“I … hadn’t thought of that.” He shrugged. “I assume so.”
“I wouldn’t assume anything where that dipshit is concerned,” Princess muttered.
“Essa?” McAllister looked at him. He was beginning to feel a pleasant warmth spreading through his body. “I dunno, he seems all right.”
Essa had taken a flight from Mars after the last battle to greet the crew of the flagship. With salt and pepper hair, a barrel chest, and a booming laugh, he brought life to the whole place. He’d shaken McAllister’s hand and commended him on his quick thinking, led the pilots in a rousing cheer, and left the ship with the crew in high spirits.
“He’s all right,” Princess agreed. “I meant Morgan. Glad we got Walker back.”
“We got her back, but all these new recruits were his idea.” Tocks raised an eyebrow at the rest of the group. “Or so I hear. And are we background checking all of them? Used to be if someone got all the way here, you knew they were serious. You came from God knew where on whatever transport you could get. You knew those people had to learn to do deck work. You knew they cared. These people, though—how do we know they’ll be any good?”
“I heard a few of the ones they got into the pilot program haven’t ever flown anything,” Princess agreed. “C’mon, Theo, that’s gotta worry you. Could just be to make Walker look bad.”
“They wouldn’t do that.” Twister’s voice was surprisingly indignant. “And it’s not like she needs their help, anyway. She’s a loose cannon.”
There was a stony silence.
Twister’s chin jutted out and she stared fiercely at them. “It’s true.”
“Who told you that?” McAllister wished he were holding the jar again. “One of Essa’s puppies? Was it in the UN recruitment video?”
“No! Everyone knows what she’s like. It’s why I signed up—I knew I couldn’t change anything unless I was here. I saw what she was doing with Earth, and it felt too risky. I thought she was playing with fire.” She leaned forward. “You saw what happened in the last battle.”
“What, when she saved our asses?” McAllister gave a pull of the home-brew. “We followed what she did for a reason—didn’t hear you complaining then.”
“Morgan gave a bad order, I know that.” She looked desperately uncomfortable to be saying it, but she admitted it with a grimace. She sat up straighter, laser focused. “And that’s the point. When he gave a bad order, he had someone to talk him out of it. She never accepted anyone doing that with her.” She gave a shake of her head. “And she could have talked to him on a private channel instead of just breaking formation.”
“I just broke formation.” McAllister shrugged.
“Because you were trained by Walker,” the newbie insisted. “She didn’t tolerate dissent, and you’re used to following her.”
“Jesus Christ.” Tocks was laughing. “Is Essa printing out pamphlets? Where do you get this shit?”
“Humanity can’t afford someone taking risks like this!” Twister was genuinely offended, her face screwed up, her hands clenched. She perched on the edge of her chair, looking between all of them.
“Okay, let me break it down for you.” Princess sat up. “I mean, unless the CAG wants to have a go?” He looked at McAllister.
“Go ahead.” McAllister waved the bottle inelegantly. “Your beer is rotting my brain.”
“Right, here’s the deal, Twister. You know how Walker got the fleet?”
“She committed mutiny,” Twister said flatly.
“She watched Essa’s tactics, she knew he wasn’t going to do anything useful for the fleet, and she took it over—by forcing a vote among the commanders. What battles did you hear about before Earth?”
Twister looked uncomfortable now. “None.”
“She’d had the fleet for five years at that point. D’you know why we were at Earth?”
She shook her head.
“To get the Dawning. You know what that is?”
Another shake.
“He’s right,” McAllister chimed in. “Essa is—”
“Let her be.” Tocks undraped herself from the chair and stood, stretching. “You gave her plenty to think about for now, and it’s food time.” She slapped her stomach. “And I’ll tell you another thing—the new deck hands? The mechanics? They’re good.”
“That’s true. At least one thing Essa’s done has worked out ok.” McAllister jerked his head. “Coming, Twister?”
The woman nodded silently. She hung back as they left, uncertain as to why she’d been dressed down one moment and invited along for dinner the next. She’d learn soon enough that no disagreement changed the most important thing: whatever happened, your next shift put you out in the black against your enemies, and you had to have each other’s backs.
“Wonder where they were all hiding,” Tocks was saying to Princess when McAllister tuned back in. She snapped her fingers at a passing mechanic. “Hey. You’re new, right?”
The deck hand nodded.
“You like it here?” Tocks shoved her hands in her pockets as she watched him.
He smiled cautiously. “Yeah.”
“Good. Where you from?”
His smile broadened. “I’m from Vesta.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Asteroid Belt
Vesta Station
Koh Rong
Parees was stowing supplies when Nhean shut the door of the common area carefully behind him. He had sent the rest of the crew into the hallways of Vesta and the Koh Rong was silent. Once, he would have said he could trust all of his crew. He was beginning to doubt that on principle. The war was making him paranoid. He sighed as he opened up one of the supply crates stacked in the center of the room, and looked over at Parees.