by Ian Miller
"You won't . . ."
"I don't want to see any more of you than I absolutely have to, ever again. Now get out of my way." She turned and pushed past him, and fled down the corridor. There was an immediate hubbub from the cafeteria; Harry turned and looked back. There was silence. Harry turned his back on the room, and walked back to his quarters.
Chapter 2
Marcellus seemed quite unconcerned as he piloted the shuttle down to this strange cold world. Chiron was apparently some relic from the initial accretion that could not grow further once the giant planets swept up all the material. Some thought that Chiron had formed beyond Neptune, along with the other objects of which Pluto was the largest, while others thought it had formed somewhere in its present position, and had somehow missed, at least for the time being, being accreted by either Saturn or Uranus. Whatever the reason for its existence, its position between Saturn and Uranus meant that it received little heat from the sun, its small size meant that it had a low gravity, and hence at first glance it was not a very interesting place at all. It was, however, the base for the few Ulsians in this solar system.
She was so weak. Even raising her hands in the shuttle was an effort. She was also despondent. Gaius had assured her that everything was going to plan, but she simply did not believe him. The fact was, she was dying, and while she believed the Ulsians were doing what they could to save her, it was not going to happen fast enough. If only she could get this wretched headgear off. It was so heavy, and she was so weak, she needed a support for her head.
The shuttle berthed, and the door opened. Natasha struggled through the air lock and entered a corridor, only to virtually collapse under the terribly oppressive Ulsian gravity. Her strength, she reflected sadly, was rapidly fading. Marcellus quickly supported her, then he carefully picked her up and carried her down the corridor to lay her carefully on a gurney that had been placed there. He carefully supported her head with a pillow and then proceeded to wheel her further along the corridor and into a larger room, where three other beings greeted her.
"Welcome to Chiron, Natasha Kotchetkova. Come in peace as an honoured guest." A relatively short being stood before her, who held out this strange hand that had a thumb on each side. Behind this being, with arms outstretched and great teeth bared, was Kuyrill Hadell. Behind her was the irrepressible Kuyrill Kazyn, who, although under instructions not to do so, was wagging his tail slightly. "My name is Gelemt," the Ulsian added.
"I am pleased to meet you," Natasha gasped.
"You have been told, I hope, that while we shall do our best for you, there are no guarantees that we shall succeed," the Ulsian said.
"Yes," she replied, "and I don't expect anything. I think it is too late to fix this body."
"It was always too late to fix that body," the Ulsian said calmly. "That is why we have to resort to extreme measures."
"I don't understand," she frowned.
"We shall take you through to the next room in a moment. There, constructed from your DNA, is what you should look like at your age."
"You've created another me?" Natasha gasped.
"Not entirely," the Ulsian said quietly. "The body is quite dead, but it is in perfect condition. The only possibility for our keeping Natasha Kotchetkova alive is to transfer your mind, or, if you prefer, your soul into that body. That is what you will have to agree to do. If it works, you will be in that body, while if it does not work, you will be dead in both bodies. The question now is, do you agree?"
"I have no real choice," Natasha shook her head. "I don't think I can live much longer anyway."
"That was judged very well," Kazyn chirped.
"You mean I get my money's worth from this body?" Natasha smiled.
"No, not exactly," Gelempt explained. "Let me explain what happens. In the brain of that new body there is a very fine network that interacts with all the neurons. It is, in fact, what is placed in the heads of most Ulsians, and that mesh has been placed inside Gaius' head. It is a device that permits the brain to interact with Ulsian technology, and which allows the use of the Krezell wand and similar technology. What is on your head is a rather primitive form of the same thing. What we have to do is to hope that we can read your mind with that. As soon as we think we have your mind locked, we then teleport that information into the other head. Now, for metaphysical reasons we need not go into, but if you wish to look at it in terms of religion, you can only have one soul, so at least one body has to die. If all goes well, you effectively leave that body, and emerge in the other. If it doesn't . . ."
"I get the picture," Natasha nodded. "I'm afraid, though, that I won't have the strength to get through this . . ."
"That is the good news," Kazyn chirped.
"What?" Natasha could hardly believe that she had heard properly.
"What Kazyn referred to is this," Gelempt said calmly. "The problem is really to get the 'you' out of your body. There is generally resistance, as the old body fights to retain its life. The nearer you are to death, without actually dying first, the more likely you are to survive this."
"And if I do?"
"Your new body is remarkably healthy, and provided it fires into life, there will be no further problem. You will have some rather acute headaches for a while, and you'll have to live with those. So the question is, do you wish to proceed."
Natasha paused for a moment, then gave a twisted smile and said. "I wish to try to live."
"Then we shall go through. You have brought your music?"
"Here," Marcellus said, and handed over a disc.
"Good," the Ulsian said. "What we want you to do," he said as the gurney was wheeled into the next room, "is to listen to the music, study the score that we shall project onto the roof above you, and try to play your flute, no matter what you feel."
"No matter what?"
"Yes. It is important. We shall place a similar flute, held the same way, on the other body."
"With a different mouth, I may not –"
"If you sense the other mouth, it doesn't matter what you do," Kazyn advised, from the previous room. "At that point, it's worked."
The next period seemed unreal. She lay on this bed, and right beside her was another woman, herself. She placed the flute in a playing position, and an equivalent flute was placed in the hands of the other her. The music began playing, the score was above her, then there was a blinding disorientation. She felt sick, she must be dying, and somewhere in the background a voice insisted that she concentrate on the music. She vaguely heard it, and somehow her eyes focussed. She began to blow. The flute did not play at all well, but there was another sound, beside her.
"Keep playing!" the voice insisted. She tried, her mouth was hopeless, but somehow music was coming from her flute. In fact, it was coming from two flutes. Not only that, but when she played a wrong note, the same wrong note came from the other her.
"Try harder! You must keep playing!"
She kept playing, or to be precise, she tried to play. She was gasping for breath, and somehow her eyes refused to focus on the score, but it did not matter for she was familiar with it. The music now slowed, in the sense that the base note was the minum rather than the quaver. It was for this reason that the music had been chosen: it would be easier for her to focus on single notes. She was not so sure. Perhaps scales or arpeggios would have been easier.
"If you wish to improvise, please do so," a voice said, "but you must concentrate harder and stop thinking about what is going on."
She would decorate it. She tried an arpeggio, then another, then another, but with a pause at the top, a mordant, then she dropped down to try a trill. She was gradually forgetting about breath control, as she became more immersed in the notes. She kept her new rhythm going with some more arpeggios, with some grace notes added. Then suddenly everything flickered, and she was still playing, except she could feel the flute in her hands, and she felt so strange. Her whole body tingled, she felt so thirsty, and for the first time she could remember,
she felt so desperately hungry. She looked towards the other her, and saw a wall. In complete surprise she dropped the flute.
"You might try looking the other way," Gelempt said.
She rolled over, and nearly fell off the bed, so surprised was she at her strength. There, in the other bed, was the most hideous shell of a body, with that strange headgear . . .
"It's . . ." she started, then began coughing.
"It's worked," the Ulsian said, "assuming you are Natasha Kotchetkova. You might like a drink of water."
She took the glass, and slowly drank the lot. It was such a strange sensation, drinking through a mouth with a proper tongue. "Well, if I'm not, I've got some really strange memories of her."
"Then rest, get used to your body, then you might like to try on your new clothes that we have provided. They're the same design, but these ones fit. Then say goodbye to the old you, then you should return to the Actium."
"No sticking around to say thank you," Natasha smiled.
"In the not too distant future you will be invited to return, but before then, you should have time to think. If you wish, you may remain on Earth as a leader with a strange web of material in your head, but if you wish to access our technology, then there will be certain things you cannot do. Now is not the time to choose. Rather you should have plenty of time to reflect."
* * *
"Mmmmm! This venison's really delicious." Natasha licked her lips and wiped her fingers.
"It really is a good match," Gaius agreed. "To think, only a couple of hours ago it was part of the ship's waste store. But don't worry, it's been totally reconstructed, according to the ancient recipe. It's got the real game taste, and none of this farmed stuff where the taste seems to have mysteriously disappeared. No! Don't get me wrong, I know you've got to farm the animals to feed the people, but surely it could have been done without its becoming totally bland?"
"The idea's to breed docile fecund fast growing animals," Natasha smiled.
"Then grow chlorella," Gaius shrugged. "It wins hands down on all three counts."
"Probably tastes like yetch."
"My point exactly," Gaius noted. "So, if you want venison because it tastes better, why not breed it so it tastes better still?"
"Don't ask me," Natasha replied. "Take it up with FoodBund."
"That'd be a classic waste of time."
"Now you sound like young Harry," Natasha smiled. "I'll tell you something, all the same. Yesterday I couldn't taste anything, so I had no idea what FoodBund was up to."
"Just because even the FoodBund mush may seem such an improvement for you," Gaius replied, "that's no reason why you shouldn't have the best. You've led far too Spartan a life. Duty is a noble thing, but you've still got to give yourself a treat from time to time."
"Oh, I shall," Natasha smiled. "At least now I've got a body which will allow me to do both. This'll make the next Council meeting more interesting."
"Meaning?"
"They want to make General Streckov field commander of Terran forces," Natasha smiled. "Apart from his total incompetence and inexperience, he'd hand the planet over to GenCorp."
"And as young Harry'd say, that'd be a real bloody disaster!" Gaius said, the last part in a fair imitation of the broadest Australian accent.
"Be a bit of a raw prawn!" Natasha agreed, before bursting into giggles.
"So what'll happen now?"
"Their plan is simple; they're going to claim I'm not fit to take the field, that I'm too sick, and probably not even fit enough to be Commissioner, let alone both. But thanks to you," she paused and looked across thankfully to Gaius, "and I really do mean thank you, from the bottom of my heart, it won't work! I'm fitter than any of them." She leaned back, and beamed.
"Suppose they say both jobs are too much for one person anyway?" Gaius asked, thoughtfully.
"I'll manage somehow!" came the determined reply.
"Natasha, forgive me, but you haven't had battle experience either."
"Neither's anyone else," Natasha pointed out, "and I'll do a much better job than Streckov." She paused, looked more intently at Gaius, then asked more seriously, "What is it? You're not suggesting that I shouldn't . . ?"
"Natasha, the best person to be field commander is me," Gaius said calmly.
Realization dawned. This Roman wanted the one thing she could not arrange. Now what? There seemed to be no option but to disillusion him. "I'm afraid that is the one thing I cannot do for you," she said softly.
"And why not?" he replied, a little harshly.
"Because the Federation Council must make the appointment," she replied. "Since nobody knows you, and you seem to want to remain incognito, that simply is not going to happen. Surely you cannot expect a group of people to vote for something they don't even know exists?"
"Of course," he replied, now more relaxed. "You're perfectly correct on that. You will have to introduce me to them."
"Even that is not without difficulty, but I guess I can manage."
"You will introduce me as an ambassador from a major power in this galaxy," Gaius said, "and which happens to be an enemy of the M'starn." He noticed her frown, then added, "It is true."
"Ulse may be a major power, but from what I gather, it isn't around here," she countered.
"What I mean is that I am an ambassador," he replied. "I shall present an official message from Ulse itself." He shrugged, and added, "The Ulsian government gave me a collection of such messages, which one to be used depending on the circumstances."
"Then why haven't you –"
"Even now, the circumstances have yet to be decided," Gaius said simply. "They depend on whether you agree with my appointment."
"What?"
"There is one message to be used if it is proposed that I be commander," Gaius said, then added with a shrug, "It also happens to be the most encouraging one, at least under these circumstances." He paused, then continued, "All of this, of course, presupposes that you will recommend me. It also depends on your remaining as Commissioner."
"Oh, thank you very much!"
"Natasha," came the almost weary reply, "you will have perhaps the most singly important job of all."
"Please, spare me the sales pitch."
"Natasha," Gaius implored, "please, believe me! Earth has no idea how to fight this sort of war. As of now, you don't even know what to fight it with. Let me assure you of one thing. If Earth fights on along the lines you have tried so far, either you will lose, or, if the M'starn don't want to press for victory, you will sustain so much damage before they leave you might as well not have bothered." He stopped, and tried to read the impression he had made.
"Go on," she said. Her tone gave no indication whatsoever as to what she was thinking.
"I can fight with you, and I'll do some damage, but with what is here at the moment, we can't win. If a Ranhynn fleet arrives, and they fight for us, we can't lose, but my guess is, it won't arrive. Accordingly, if you want to win this, Earth has to do the bulk of the damage to the enemy.
"Under such circumstances," Gaius continued, "I can help you decide what to fight with, and how to use it, but that will only work if you organise the production and provide the troops, and I mean you. Troops by themselves are useless. Someone has to select who is best to do what, and you're the only one who can do that. The only hope Earth has is if somehow you can steer all the fractious groups into combining their efforts, and at the same time isolate the traitors amongst you. If we can't get the supply of appropriate weapons and training right, if we hand over our plans to the M'starn, or if you don't end up with political stability, we might as well not even bother to fight the battle. The key role is not battle commander, but Chief of Staff, Consul, Head of Intelligence, and somebody to reorganise Earth's forces. This would normally be done by at least half a dozen people, and you, Natasha, are going to have to do all of that yourself."
"I see," she said, in the tone of somebody who does not wish to comment.
"And
don't worry about the fame. Think about my time. Everybody in your time's heard of Augustus but how many know about Marcus Agrippa? And that's no trick of history. Augustus was immensely powerful, but Marcus Agrippa was the man who got things done. Augustus might have promised the Romans water, and he might have taken the credit for it, but Agrippa built the aqueducts. I shall command because I am much better qualified. I have fought many more battles –"
"Ancient battles," Natasha pointed out.
"And future battles. I have beaten the M'starn more than once, which is more than I can say for anyone else here. But there is a much more important reason."
"And that is?"
"The Ranhynn. If they send some ships, my rank in the Ulsian forces will mean they will be obliged to fight under my command. I can guarantee, however, they will not fight under yours."
"And they have technology comparable to that of the M'starn?"
"Yes."
"Then I suppose I have no choice."
"No. You do not," Gaius said flatly, "but I hope you will look at this in the alternative light, and certainly not as some sort of personal loss. You are not doing this because you are forced to, but rather because this gives you the best chance of victory."
"The price of duty."
"Duty is putting what you know to be right ahead of what you'd like to happen."
"I yield," came the almost tired concession.
"No, under no circumstances!" Gaius said earnestly. "You are organizing your forces to best effect, not downgrading yourself. I doubt you could be as good a field commander as me, but you are correct on one point. For all we know, you just might. You've had no experience, but that doesn't mean you can't do it. But there is one thing I do know. If we're going to win, somebody has to do the job I outlined above, and I know I cannot, and I do not believe there is anyone else who could, and who is also in a position where they might get the chance. We have to work together and with many others to have any chance. Please, don't be disappointed."
"I'm not," Natasha said flatly, "but I was thinking about what will happen after this is all over, assuming we win, of course."