by Mel Keegan
“These ships remain unaccounted for. Your scientists understand the mechanics of transspace: temporal flux is complex. The Zunshu ships can return at any time, and their arrival would trigger the regeneration of the species. In one educated generation, the Zunshu can be a devastating force; and the returning Zunshu will surely bring with them the data which inspired the holocaust. War would recur immediately. Hence,” Shuleern said fatalistically, “our weapons, the gauntlet of which you ran, and defeated – though not without alerting us to your passage.
“We continue to search transspace for the absent Zunshu ships, and we are aware that two ships might become two hundred, in the many years since the war. We have as yet discovered no trace of them. The Phoenix is welcome to join us in the hunt, and has been invited. The hazard the Rhammee ships represent cannot be understated, and The Phoenix’s defeat of our weapons has demonstrated that we must reinforce the ramparts guarding this planet.
“However, extinction was never intended for the Zunshu as a species. They can return swiftly to greatness. This is their challenge, Shapiro. The means to make the journey were left at the feet of the custodians of the generation nest.”
“And you believe they can recover their technology,” Shapiro said slowly, “without the desire to exterminate every other intelligent species.”
“Their priests are gone, lost with the sinking of the great holy city at the beginning of the war. Without the priests, knowledge that holocaust might benefit their species is also lost.” Shuleern paused, and the curiously-faced helmet panned across the humans and Resalq who stood transfixed. “You are aware of the Zunshu motivation?”
“We are.” Shapiro glanced sidelong at the Sherratts, Jazinsky, Rusch. “We have yet to fully examine the data, to ascertain if the Zunshu were deceived by a rogue priesthood.”
“They were not,” Shuleern said without hesitation. “Their information is valid. They would,” the sweet synthetic voice said with no trace of inflection, “destroy the universe to preserve the immortality of the race. The universe,” it added, “proved reluctant to accept extinction.”
An odd shiver passed through Marin, leaving him cold to the marrow. He and Travers shared a glance and Neil lifted a speculative brow, but Shapiro was speaking again and Marin forced himself to listen.
“The Zunshu are far from extinct. If they recover their technology, they could come hunting for other species again.”
“They could make the attempt,” Shuleern allowed. “However, their purpose is known now, they are infamous among surviving species. Their kind will never be unobserved. Your presence in this system was transmitted to us, and the Guardian ship Hshtor was swiftly assigned to investigate. We observed at once, The Phoenix has no connection to the Zunshu.”
“And if – when – the Zunshu rediscover the … the brane, and their part in it?” Shapiro wondered. “It could take a century or ten, but the day is out there, Shuleern.”
“It is,” Shuleern said readily, “and the question has been debated for many years by our theorists. Not all intelligent species possess any vestige of life’s continuation past biological death. Like so many single-lived creatures, the Zunshu must seek their immortality through their creations and inventions, their art and literature, their children. Their immortality should be mapped in their generations, their contribution to the galaxy, not what they steal from others and from the future … else, the million generations of your descendents, Shapiro, and ours, are forfeit as the price of their eternal continuation as a species within the Eeneera.”
Here, Lai’a said softly, “The word will not translate clearly. The basic concept is otherworld.”
“Oh, I understand the concept.” Shapiro looked up thoughtfully at the odd face created by the cluster of sensory instruments. “Tell me, Shuleern, if you know the answer. The Zunshu turned from exterminating Resalq to hunting down mankind. You know we’re different species, and that the Resalq are native to the Deep Sky…”
“We know,” Shuleern assured him. “The Phoenix did not withhold information; nor did we. Your question?”
“Do you know –” Shapiro seemed to hesitate and then plowed on. “Since the Rhammee took to exterminating humans, did they meet and identify our kind in the – the Eeneera? Or were we simply not distinguished from the Resalq, since we’re physically quite similar? Forgive me for the question, Shuleern. I’ve a reason, lately, to be curious.”
Shuleern’s helmet panned toward him; lenses zoomed a little. “Your life partner was killed in the struggle against our weapons. It does you credit, Shapiro, that you bear us no grudge.” It studied him for a moment. “We have little information regarding the Eeneera. We verified the Zunshu data, at the time we penetrated this star system and overrode the AI. The brane does exist; the waveform of Rhammee personality does upload there and not return, unlike several species such as the Resalq, which suffer rebirth. The Rhammee reported encountering the waveform of Veldn intelligence in the brane. From our antecedents there, they learned the coordinates of our star. The information returned from the brane was accurate enough to bring them directly to our world; it follows that it was sourced from Veldn intelligence in the Eeneera. However, we cannot access the brane. A fluke of Zunshu cortical structure permitted a handful of deliberately engineered mutoids to access it, and these purpose-bred adepts were lost in the war. We have no further information.”
“Their shamans are gone,” Shapiro whispered.
“But the potential remains in the species,” Shuleern added, “alongside the potentials for art, poetry, mathematics. Their world has not changed; they, themselves, have not changed. The path trodden by their ancestors can be retraced.”
“And the path taken by the shaman-priests?” Shapiro asked cynically.
“That path, also.” Shuleern paused. “You disapprove of the war?”
“No – not at all,” Shapiro said quickly. “We came to this system to try to negotiate our way to an armistice, a peace. If the Zunshu refused to talk, we were ready to turn to other means, as you did, and I don’t doubt the outcome would have been similar, of necessity.” He gestured in the direction of the gas giant. “They have their chance. The Titans have left the gift of fire on the battlefield, if only the savages can recognize it and pick it up.”
Marin wondered how Lai’a might translate the cultural references, but a moment later Shuleern said with leaden certainty, “The Rhammee will overcome their ignorance in time. When the species reaches beyond their homeworlds again, they will be greeted, welcomed … until or unless they turn their considerable gifts to the extermination of others.”
“At which point,” Shapiro finished, “war is inevitable.” He nodded, with a glance at Vaurien, Jazinsky, Mark Sherratt. “Most regrettable. But there’s much to be said for seeking one’s immortality through the contributions and children we leave behind.” He stirred deliberately and tried a smile, though Marin knew the expression could mean nothing to the Veldn. “May I offer the sincere hope that humans, Resalq and Veldn will enjoy a future filled with peaceful, lucrative cultural exchange. The journey through transspace to our worlds in the Deep Sky is short. You have the navigational data?”
“It was provided by The Phoenix.” Shuleern stepped back. “You are departing this space directly?”
“We must,” Shapiro said grimly. “To defeat this dead technology, we have work ahead of us that will take years, and we might lose millions of lives before we can see it done. We have no time to lose.”
“I do not understand,” Shuleern said. “The Rhammee, Zunshu, were overcome long ago. You defeated our guardian weapon zones. We have been aware of your presence since you exited the adjacent Drift, where the nebula is colored as red as your own blood. We imaged The Phoenix there; you detected our transmissions and left a comm drone, informing any who should come upon it of who you are, where you are from, where you were going, and to what end. We fretted that our weapons might damage you, but the travel-lag was too great to halt your pro
gress. When you overcame our weapons, our drones here transmitted the news of your ingress to the Rhammee world. You have seen that the Zunshu can hurt no one in future.”
Shapiro’s face might have been carved in granite. “But their weapons are still killing us, striking our worlds across our frontier. Our information is that the weapons are already deployed in Elarne, transspace, where time passes differently. We’re arming against them, but every world must be defended. It’ll take time, and there’ll be enormous loss of life and territory before we can safeguard them all. The Zunshu weapons,” he finished, “were apparently assigned in one mass launch, about a thousand of our years ago. They’re still out there, and they’re hurting us badly. This is the whole reason we came here.”
For a moment Shuleern seemed to skip a beat before it said baldly, “Deactivate them.”
A pulse drummed in Marin’s temple. He looked sharply at Travers, and Neil’s eyes were a blue glitter in the hangar lights. Beyond him, Jazinsky and Vaurien took a half step forward, and Vaurien set one hand on the shoulder of Shapiro’s armor. Shuleern turned toward him.
“I am Vaurien,” he said carefully. “Captain – mission commander would be more accurate.”
“My counterpart.” Shuleern raised both its hands.
Vaurien lifted his own left hand in a gesture that would have been recognized on any human world. What the Veldn made of it, Marin could not guess. “We would deactivate the Zunshu weapons if we could,” Richard said in the same careful tone, “but the computer core is badly decayed. Much of the data is corrupt beyond recovery. Lai’a – The Phoenix – is trying to reconstruct it, but … Lai’a?”
“No deactivation code exists in the accessible data transfer,” Lai’a said. “Standby.”
“Standby for…?” Shapiro asked.
And then Lai’a again: “Received. My thanks, Shuleern.”
“You have the deactivation code? Well, now.” Shapiro glanced back at the party behind him, a catch in his voice.
“The information is no secret,” Shuleern said mildly in the cool synthetic voice. “We recovered it from the Zunshu AI at the close of the war. Since, we have used it to safeguard our worlds.”
“Blanket broadcast,” Jazinsky rasped, “from comm drones seeded across Hellgate. The Zunshu hardware will go dark as soon as it drops out. We’ll rake it together and throw it at Naiobe. To be absolutely sure, every world should have its own comm buoys on the roads in the star systems.” She breathed a long, shaky breath. “Oh, yeah, this would cover it. Lai’a?”
“Perfectly feasible,” Lai’a agreed. “I can also drop comm drones into the stable driftways adjacent to Hellgate, which may prevent a number of the Zunshu weapons ever exiting Elarne. Shuleern, this is Jazinsky, the humans’ chief scientist of this mission.”
“Felicitations,” Shuleern said formally. “The Phoenix has stated that it, and this ship, are the product of work performed by Jazinsky and Resalq associates M’hak-chyrr’tt, Dryo-chyrr’tt and Tur Sreceu. Have we the honor to be in the presence of these?”
Mark and Dario stepped up to Shapiro’s side. “Working with humans, I go by the name of Mark Sherratt,” he said cordially. “One or two friends call me Mahak. My companion is Dario … my last-born, in fact. Tor Sereccio is recovering from surgery, or he would be here. He will forever rue having missed this gathering … greetings,” he added, “from the Resalq.”
Shuleern lifted its hands once more in a gesture Marin had already come to recognize. “May I convey the regrets of the Veldn for the injury of Sereccio, for the injury of Vaurien, for the death of Kim, for the death of Teniko.” It paused. “Warning beacons were posted in numerous locations.”
“And we,” Shapiro said sadly, “couldn’t understand a syllable. Not that your language can be said to possess syllables.” He made dismissive gestures. “We fought; at the time we knew no better, and believed we must. We won through, and … here we are.”
“The Phoenix comprehensively depleted available ordnance here,” Shuleern said with a trace of surprise. “It will be replaced.”
“We came here quite ready to fight, and we understand that the defense zones must be re-established.” Shapiro traded glances with Vaurien. “Shuleern, it’s highly likely human and Resalq scientists will want to study the Rhammee ruins. It cost us two lives to fight through your defense zones.”
“Standby.” Shuleern paused and made a discreet gesture with its right hand.
“Received,” Lai’a acknowledged.
“Received what?” Travers muttered, though Marin could guess.
“Deactivation code for the Veldn defense zones,” Lai’a told him.
“The AI controller now recognizes The Phoenix,” Shuleern said unconcernedly, in the calm synthetic tones of the machine. “You are most welcome to study the Zunshu ruins. If you would care to share data with our archaeologists, The Phoenix has the location of the Second Star. You are most welcome in our system, though our world is as far beyond your tolerance as yours would be to us.”
“Thank you,” Shapiro said simply. “Scientists from the Deep Sky will return. The Phoenix is a prototype, and I doubt it will remain unique for long. The Veldn are very welcome in the Deep Sky. You have the locations of our capital worlds?”
“We do.” Shuleern stepped back again. “We shall announce ourselves ahead of arrival.” It gestured at the suit it wore. “We can appear more similar to yourselves, if this would assist humankind and Resalq. We can adopt any shape. We assumed the shape of Zunshu, for research purposes in the deep atmosphere of their world.”
“It … might be beneficial,” Mark said thoughtfully. “In all the centuries, this is the first time we’ve communicated with forms very different from ourselves, and both our peoples are – shall we say, anxious. Contact me, Shuleern. The Phoenix will tell you how, and where.”
“It already has,” Shuleern assured him. “We know of your ship, Carellan Djerun, and your world, Saraine. We part today as allies. All Veldn will make welcome survivors of the Rhammee.”
“You know there’s a civilization hiding, two Drifts away?” Vaurien askedS shrewdly. “We found them, on our way here.”
“We know of them.” Shuleern and its companion had returned to the outer hangar doors. “They are not yet prepared. Their technology is sound but their culture is xenophobic. Should they chance upon life like us, or like you, their reaction would be horror.”
“Leave them,” Shapiro counselled. “A hundred years.”
“Or a thousand,” Shuleern said easily, “it is no matter.”
“We’re not so long lived,” Vaurien said wryly, “though it’s true the Resalq are.”
Shuleern studied him in silence for a moment. “Remedy this,” it suggested simply. “You possess the technology.”
And then the Veldn simply turned away, paused, stepped away again, which Marin knew instinctively was their farewell gesture. Humans and Resalq fell back to the airlock, and in moments the system began to cycle. Marin felt giddy, but it was not an imbalance in the air – Travers and Vidal wore the same stunned expression while Jazinsky, Rusch and the Sherratts were eager to rush to the nearest lab.
The data exchange between Lai’a and the Veldn AI would obsess them every day of the journey back to the Deep Sky. Marin heard random fragments of it as they spoke in a rush of words – the Veldn cartilages had the strength of kevlex-titanium; and the species was triple-gender, male, female or neither according to the season, plus their ‘breeder,’ the semi-sentient marsupial form which gestated the eggs and incubated the young until they formed their exoskeletal armor and developed the strength to carry their own weight under their world’s fierce gravity. Marin, Travers and Vidal shared an overwhelmed look.
“Hardsuits off,” Vaurien said in rueful tones. “Stand down from alert, Lai’a … it’s over.”
“The Veldn ship is departing,” Lai’a announced. “Do you wish to return to the Zunshu Drift directly?”
“Unless there’s an
y more to be done here.” Vaurien was pale with exhaustion. Travers shadowed him as they headed for the suiting room. “Mark, did you decide to take those stasis chambers aboard, or do you want to leave them for the next expedition?”
“It’s a major project.” Mark was lifting off his armor. “Can we afford six or eight hours? Dario and I spent some time over the virtual model of the city, figuring a route to get objects that size out of the structure without a hull breach. We found one, and once they’re out it’s easy to lift them. They’re too big for the aperture Lai’a cut for the boarding tube, but there’s a blind bulkhead only about 900 meters from the basement where the stasis chambers are stored.”
“A dozen drones,” Dario went on as he dumped boots and greaves back into storage. “Here’s the plan, Rick. The Harlequin takes a gang of drones down to the fog line where gas becomes water. Roark and Asako drop the drones, return to orbit. Two drones torch the way for a docking adapter, install a lock-in, lock-out unit … it can be used by the science team that comes out with the next expedition. Handling drones go in, bring out the stasis chambers one by one. We drop a cargo sled for the load; the Harlequin picks up the drones. Job done.”
“Six hours,” Vaurien said doubtfully.
“Maybe eight,” Dario allowed.
“Maybe ten or twelve.” Vaurien conferred silently with Mark, who only shrugged. “A few hours won’t make any difference. If you think you can do it – get busy.”
“Eight hours,” Dario promised.
“Don’t cut corners. It’s the first rule of the salvage business … and that’s what this job is.” As the armor came off Vaurien was on one foot, leaning heavily on Grant’s shoulder; his trembling was uncontrollable. Only willpower and stimulants had kept him moving, and they were wearing off fast. Without the armor to literally hold him up, he could barely stand. He clasped Dario’s shoulder in passing. “Lai’a – you got ten hours, give or take. If you needed a chance to run maintenance on all three drives and generators before we head back to transspace, here it is. Anything I should know about?”