Balance of Terror

by K S Augustin

  “And how long ago was this?”

  “Hmmm. Maybe eight, nine years ago.”

  “Whose idea was it for you to apply for a posting at Phyllis?”

  “Needann’s,” Kad said with a nod. “It was all part of our long-term planning. The way she saw it, I couldn’t do very much good stuck out on the edge of the galaxy. But if I managed to work my way towards the Tor system, towards the heart of the Republic itself…. It didn’t quite work out that way, but it was a good plan.”

  Somehow, Moon had always thought that Kad had slipped into anti-Republic sentiment while at the Phyllis Centre. The admission that he’d been actively involved along those lines for much longer – not only years before she’d interviewed him, but also the fact that it was the sole reason they’d met in the first place – unnerved her. Had she known him at all?

  “So what’s she like, this Needann?” she asked.

  “She’s very determined, very sure of what she wants.” He looked at Moon. “She’s been through a lot, experienced a lot, and isn’t anyone you’d want to cross, Moon.”

  Moon flashed him a wry grin. “I don’t think I’m going to have a choice.”

  Despite the spectre of Needann hanging over her head, Moon was surprised to discover that she enjoyed the time she spent on the Unfinished Tale catching up with Kad, in between spending much needed personal time with Srin. As a research partner, Kad had been quick-witted, intelligent, solid and reasonable, but that was just a small slice of the man she was starting to get to know, almost years too late. She had never really noticed the passion behind his cool blue eyes before, nor the driving sense of injustice underpinning his dry sense of humour. It was like meeting a childhood friend after many years’ absence and, between them, they kept Srin entertained with stories of life at the Phyllis, Kad being the main source of juicy gossipy snippets while Moon related how she struck fear into her students whenever she was forced to take on some hated lecturing duties.

  True to his word, Kad steered clear of any mention of the deal they’d made at Wessness, treating the trip more like a holiday cruise and Moon knew she would always value the three weeks they spent together on the Tale before it finally docked at their destination, known only by the code-name “Excalibur”.

  “I’m sorry, Moon,” Kad had told the both of them, an hour away from their destination. “The location and configuration of Excalibur’s a secret. I would appreciate it if you would stay in your quarters until we’re docked.”

  Even as she watched, from the moment the captain announced that he’d be entering the system within thirty minutes, Moon saw a change come over her friend. He straightened, his posture becoming more erect, and the expression on his face more alert. True to his word, he came to collect the two passengers just as the Tale shuddered from its docking manoeuvres.

  “We’re here,” he told them, unnecessarily in Moon’s view. “Excalibur may appear deserted to you but, rest assured, there’s plenty of crew around. And I’m sure Needann is in a hurry to meet you.”

  But even he looked surprised when the hatch door finally opened and they confronted a scene of frantic hurry.

  Moon stepped into a corridor that was obviously hewn from rock, a nexus where three corridors met. From every end, one person or two hurried along, their arms holding something, intent on getting to an unspecified destination at a speed approaching a half-run. Nobody looked as if they had time to stop and converse.

  “Is it always this busy?” she asked, looking around.

  Kad frowned. “No. Never at Excalibur.” He stepped in front of one of the hurrying people. “Keda, what’s going on?”

  The woman, petite but so thin she bordered on skeletal, skidded to a halt. Her small slit-like eyes flashed to where Moon and Srin stood before focusing back on Kad.

  “There’s been an incident,” she said brusquely. “You’d better talk to Needann about it.” Then she hurried off.

  “Wait,” Kad called after her, “what was the incident?”

  Moon caught one word that sounded like ‘dokan’ before Keda disappeared down the corridor.

  “I apologise,” Kad said, clearly puzzled, “it’s not usually like this.”

  Moon and Srin looked at each other but said nothing. At Kad’s gesture, they followed him down the corridor.

  The configuration of the station was unlike anything Moon had seen before. She was used to hubs, where several corridors met, straight lines, with small discussion alcoves along the way, large rooms of data units in orderly rows. Instead, the route they took was circular with none of a usual number of avenues branching off it. Instead, ladders led up or down at points that didn’t appear to be obvious. She had a fleeting impression of how sections were organised on the Perdition, with short ladders that had led to storage bays and accommodation quarters, but the configuration at Excalibur reminded her of…an ant’s nest.

  Feeling a little more wary, Moon gripped Srin’s enfolding hand more tightly.

  Ten minutes later, passing by other people – an equal mix of humans and aliens – they stopped by a closed door. Kad rapped once on the still panel and, after a small pause, it slid open. They stepped inside and entered a high-ceilinged chamber, its walls oval and smooth, soft illumination draping them from its apex.

  On a small platform in the centre of a chamber was an arrangement of two panels, not unlike the clearboards Moon had used in her lab for her own work. And behind the panels, obscured by the readouts from running programs, and the occasional square of spidery-looking script, stood a woman.

  She stopped whatever she was doing as they entered and gazed at them through the transparent panels for a moment, then stepped to one side.

  She was not human, although she had a humanoid appearance, and there was something, not only different, but wrong about her. Moon observed her as she stepped down from the platform and approached them, noticing the torso that extended a little behind her legs to end as a blunt arrow, a strangely elongated midriff and a pair of arms that appeared too skinny to be useful. Her throat was short and stubby, supporting a bald, egg-shaped head. Her eyes, an iridescent green, appeared to dissect the three of them in forensic detail.

  “Dokan,” Kad said, by way of greeting.

  “Dokan is causing trouble,” the woman who must be Needann said. Her voice was flat and emotionless. “He left us a day ago.”

  “Left?” Kad repeated. “To do what?”

  “Speak to the Republic.”

  “Speak-?”

  Kad appeared to have difficulty with the concept. He looked away, blinked, then looked back at Needann again.

  “Why—”

  “You have brought Thadin,” Needann interrupted.

  She stepped closer, until she and Moon were face-to-face. “You are the physicist.”

  “Yes, I am,” Moon replied, calmly.

  “I apologise for the chaos,” Needann said. “We’ve had a recent defector. We must plan accordingly.”

  She didn’t move away but scrutinised Moon carefully, as if fascinated by the scientist’s hair, eyes and skin.

  “Dokan has been unhappy here for a while.” Needann raised her voice, directing the words to Kad, but continued to observe Moon. “He thought he was created for bigger things.”

  “More recognition?” Moon asked, because it felt as if she was expected to contribute to this strange conversation.

  “Recognition, fame, money. The usual. Now he will try his luck with another mistress. One that won’t be so accommodating.”

  “The Republic.”

  “Yes. The Republic.”

  “Then what are we still doing here?” Kad demanded, off to one side. “If Dokan really has taken off to get a better deal from the Republic, we should have finished evacuating Excalibur by now.”

  Needann finally turned away and Moon breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “There were additional factors. We were waiting for you to arrive with Thadin.”

  “Sure, but—”

/>   “And Dokan is still an unknown factor.”

  “How can he be an unknown factor if he defected to the Republic?” Kad demanded. “To be honest with you, Needann, I always wondered why you kept him around. He always seemed a little unhinged to me.”

  “He is also a coward. There is a small probability that he will not do anything.”

  “But if—”

  “The majority of personnel are leaving. I will stay behind. If nothing happens, I will recall our personnel.”

  Kad quirked an eyebrow. “And if something does?”

  “Don’t worry, Minslok. I have my own plans.”

  “Needann!” Kad looked unhappy. “If Dokan is on the loose, then we should hold this conversation aboard the Tale. Get ready, in case—”

  “No!” The word was loud and sharp. “We stay. I will see my fantasies fulfilled in my office, not on your ship, Minslok.”

  She angled a look at him before walking over to Srin. “And you are Flerovs.”

  Srin inclined his head in acknowledgement.“You must be Needann.”

  As always, he looked relaxed and confident. Moon envied him his equanimity.

  “Minslok tells me you have a special brain.” She lifted a slim finger, no more than skin coating a taper of bone, touched it briefly to his temple. “A special mind.”

  Srin didn’t blink. “I think we’re all special in our own way, don’t you?”

  Moon didn’t like the way Needann was looking at Srin, as if he was the answer to her dreams. She had the sudden, primal urge to shove the alien woman – rebel leader or not – out of the way and growl, “Hey, hands off, this is my man!” Maybe she moved, unconsciously tensed a muscle, because Needann retreated very quickly back to the platform. Her expression gave nothing away.

  “I am busy at the moment. We can talk tomorrow.”

  She walked back to her clearboards without a backwards glance.

  “Needann,” Kad said in a louder voice, “what about Dokan and the evacuation? If everyone else is leaving, shouldn’t we? I don’t think—”

  “I will not let one such as Dokan force me to run, Minslok. Our contingency plans are sufficient. I wish to remain. And so will you, Thadin and Flerovs.”

  A charged silence followed.

  “Come on. I’ll show you to your quarters.” Moon could tell by the tone in Kad’s voice that he was still unhappy.

  Srin spoke as they left Needann’s office.

  “She appears to be a very determined female.”

  Kad stared at him. “Determined. Stubborn. Stupid,” he added in a lower voice. “But you’re right. Mostly determined. Don’t forget that.”

  “But Kad,” Moon remarked, “didn’t you also say she’s a smart woman? What she’s doing right now doesn’t strike me as a smart move. If one of your contacts has defected to the Republic, isn’t it dangerous to be here?”

  Kad stopped and looked at the floor, exhaling heavily. “This is a bit complicated. This isn’t the first time Dokan has…run away.” He lifted his head and his gaze flitted between the other two. “I imagine Needann is staying put because she expects him to come back. He has every other time.”

  Moon shook her head. That didn’t make any sense to her. Why would a ruthless leader like Needann keep making concessions to someone who sounded unbalanced?

  “He’s family,” Kad said in a rush. “And Needann is extremely loyal to family members and close friends. All right?” His voice indicated that the discussion was at an end. He turned and walked away. Moon and Srin followed.

  They went down two levels and stopped in front of an otherwise nondescript door. “Here’s where you’ll be staying until the…negotiations are over. With the excitement over Dokan, I’m not sure what the meal arrangements are, but I’ll go check for you. The time at Excalibur is seventeen hours, about nine hours ahead of what it was on the Unfinished Tale. Needann isn’t an early riser, so I’ll come and get you at ten tomorrow morning, Moon, if that’s all right.”

  “Just me? What about Srin?”

  Kad shook his head. “Needann was quite emphatic about that. You and her. A one-on-one discussion.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “A one-on-one discussion,” Moon mused as she eyed their room. How many temporary abodes did that make now? It might have been a romantic notion to think of her and Srin as criminals on the run, but that’s exactly what they were. “A family member who might be turning us over to the Republic even as we speak. And then there’s this place. Where is Excalibur exactly?” she continued in a testy tone. “Besides a low-grav habitat that appears to have an overabundance of rock.”

  “I thought your friend, Kad, might have told you,” Srin suggested carefully.

  Moon snorted. “Kad? Sometimes he plays things so close to his chest, they’re buried in his lungs.”

  Srin gave a quiet chuckle. “Well, if we’re underground – which I think we are – that means we’re probably on a moon or asteroid,” Srin remarked. “Someplace where the atmosphere is contained. Or we could be on an otherwise inhospitable planet on the edge of Republic space.” He looked up at the ceiling more closely. “Subterranean? Could the weight of an ocean be above us?”

  Moon, only half-listening, flung herself on the bed. “One-on-one? What does that mean?”

  Srin looked over at her then sat down on the edge of the mattress, his expression serious. “It means you barter my abilities like a gold-plated thruster unit.”

  Moon covered her eyes with a hand. “I never intended it to be like this,” she groaned. “I thought I might have been able to appeal to Kad’s good nature once we were face to face. That he would see the consequences of our ill-made bargain and…oh I don’t know, let us go and live out our lives in peace somewhere.”

  “The deal you made with Kad on Wessness was the best chance we had,” Srin argued, “the best one we still have.”

  Moon removed her hand and they gazed at each other. She knew that this was the start of a discussion they had been avoiding, the one both of them had been pretending didn’t exist.

  Srin took a breath and opened his mouth. “Moon—”

  “No!” She bolted upright, shimmied to the edge of the bed, and walked stiffly to the opposite wall, hugging her arms. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “You have to hear it.” His voice was firm.

  She shook her head and strands of her hair whipped across her face. “No I don’t. I don’t have to—”

  “Dammit, Moon, I’ve remained silent throughout most of this journey, but this time you’re going to listen to me if I have to tie you down and tape your mouth shut!”

  Startled by the uncharacteristic vehemence in his voice, Moon didn’t say a word. Suddenly exhausted, she leant against the wall, her arms still across her body in a protective gesture. She refused to meet his gaze, and looked downwards, as if studying the minutiae of her footwear.

  “Do you know how many systems I’ve visited in my life?” he finally asked.

  “No.” Her gaze skittered up, as timid as an anxious mousedeer.

  He shrugged and a small smile lit his features for a moment. “Neither do I. But I do know that, in my recent past, I’ve been to a planet that was poor and bitterly cold, a moon much like this one, riven with tunnels for miners to work, and a desert world so harsh and yet so beautiful it almost took my breath away.”

  Moon felt tears start to form but bit her lip.

  “I’ve met aloof men who’ve turned out to be solidly dependable, greedy merchants who nonetheless conceded when they’d lost a gamble, and rebels that I’d be proud to call my friends. And a woman…,” his voice softened, “a woman who stayed true to me through thick and thin, through convulsions, unconsciousness, delirium and danger. The kind of woman who’d help me defeat the entire damned universe if I only asked it of her.”

  “Srin…,” she said brokenly.

  He held up a hand. “Let me finish. When a person gets to the end of their life, they take stock. I could count the cre
dits we have on our discs, but they’re lifeless, inert. How can I measure my life by things that can’t feel or yearn…or love? What else is there in life, Moon, but the rich experiences we gather, the thoughts, dreams and intimacy we share with others? And yet, despite my late start, in a very short time, bearing a very short series of memories, I now consider myself to be the richest man in the galaxy.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I remember what you said to Kad while we were on board his ship. You told him that you weren’t going to let anyone use your research to harm people, whether rebels or Republic citizens. And I agree with that.

  “Moon,” his voice quickened, “if I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have interfered with your calculations back on the Differential. I didn’t want you to create a weapon that could kill millions of people, and now I don’t want me to help give that same knowledge to someone else.”

  “But you said, on the Tale, that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me,” Moon choked. “You said you would do anything, sacrifice millions for a chance for us to be together.”

  “I was scared,” Srin admitted. “But the closer we came to Excalibur, the more I thought about it.

  “I know that Needann needs the both of us if she wants the solar missile to work. We would need to revisit your old work, check the direction you were taking with it, recalculate a whole ton of formulae. I know it would take months, but I also know that you’re brilliant enough to make it work, to give the universe something that could either light it up or destroy it.” He paused “But, my love, I’ve decided that I don’t want to be a part of that. In the end, completing your research would destroy you, and I don’t want you to have to sell both our souls for the sake of this one body.”