Survival Strategy

by Anders Raynor

  “My entire life I felt like a prisoner,” Ophelia breathed, her gaze wandering across the room. “First in the Taar’kuun lab where I was created, then on Olympica, then on Earth, Chloris, and now Neo… Is it fair? I never had a normal childhood, and now that I’m a young woman, I’m trapped in this high-security building. How can I help humanity when I don’t even know what it means to have a normal human life?”

  Talia nodded and put her scanner away. “I agree. You need fresh air, so to speak. Doctor’s orders. Would you like to go to the Capitol?”

  That Hera-class liner used to be the Alliance’s headquarters during the journey to Neo, and now was being converted into a cultural and entertainment center.

  Ophelia’s eyes sparkled, a jolt of energy running through her. “You’re not kidding? You can take me there?”

  Talia’s smile broadened. “I’ll do whatever it takes to break you out of your jail, princess.”

  Ophelia returned her smile, thinking that she couldn’t have dreamed of a better mother figure.

  “Under one condition—you eat your vegetables, young lady,” Talia added. “I’ll give you a shot of glucose and a mild sedative. I want you to have a proper meal, go to bed, and get some sleep. Understood? I’ll be back to pick you up in ten hours.”

  *****

  The Capitol aspired to be a family friendly alternative to the Dionysus. A place of fun where law-obedient citizens could relax or blow off steam. The liner had lost its stately austerity; from space, it looked like an entertainment park, its elegant avoid shape outlined with hundreds of multicolored lights.

  Inside, the décor confirmed that impression. DeCourt had tried hard to renew his image and erase from memories the drama that had taken place only months ago, when the Earthists led by Adisa Multan took over the ship. Bullet holes had been patched and the walls had been repainted. So-called morale-boosting posters had been replaced; instead of scantily-clad females, the new ones featured happy families and laughing children.

  Unlike Talia, Ophelia hadn’t witnessed the horrors of the Earthist uprising. She’d arrived on the Capitol shortly after the Battle of Chloris. By then the conflict was over. Yet the memories of that day were still vivid in her mind. The drawn faces of survivors, the moans of the wounded transported to sickbay, the repair crews rushing to respond to assorted emergencies.

  The stench of gun powder, blood, and death. She remembered it all.

  Now the ship sparkled like a new coin. As the shuttle transporting Ophelia and Talia touched down in one of the hangar bays, giant holo-screens deployed along the walls, flooding the bay with bright colors. Promotional vids enticed visitors to take full advantage of the ship’s attractions: holo-movies, adventure sims, zero-G sports, botanical gardens, and the planetarium.

  Crowds queued before security gates. Ophelia and Talia disembarked and were about to join them, but instead their detail ushered them through the VIP gate.

  Holo-screens continued to light up around them, advertising the pleasures the ship had to offer.

  “Good day to you, young lady,” boomed a large face with slanted eyes belonging to a chef, judging by the shape of his white hat. His image gave way to platters of exotic dishes, multicolored cocktails, and all sorts of desserts displayed in a kaleidoscope of gastronomic excess. “Enjoy the finest cuisine—”

  The chef’s voice was lost in the clamor as new screens came to life, each one shouting its own messages.

  “Dance, dance, dance!” an overexcited teenage voice chanted, while the screen showed a throng of clubbers in a festive frenzy.

  “Want to pilot your own ship?” a male voice asked. “Discover the galaxy like a true spacer in our sim—”

  “I can’t live without you,” declared a young woman, tears streaking down her cheeks, addressing a handsome boy in a Hawaiian shirt.

  “And I can’t imagine my life without you,” he replied, while the title of a romantic holo-vid unfolded above his head. The background music was so sweet it could cause the emotional equivalent of diabetes.

  Hundreds of similar ads came to life around Ophelia, each one competing for her attention. Such an abundance of visual stimuli was overwhelming. She stopped and closed her eyes.

  She felt Talia’s hand on her shoulder. “You all right?” Talia’s voice was tinged with concern. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

  Ophelia shook her head and opened her eyes. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just not used to this. But I’m fine. More than fine actually. I feel…”

  She looked around and took a deep breath. The air was filled with aromas that brought water to her mouth. “I feel real. I mean… I don’t know how to express that in words. It’s like reality is solidifying around me. Like something is anchoring me to the material world.”

  Talia nodded. “I think I understand. Your senses saturated, you can fully feel the material world, be part of it. Take it slow, okay? Let’s go to the planetarium.” She pointed at an open door below the spinning 3D image of the Milky Way. “It’s quiet there, and I know you love astronomy.”

  “Great idea. Let’s go!”

  Ophelia gamboled like a schoolgirl. She felt liberated, the burden of her gift lifted off her shoulders. At that moment, she felt almost normal. Childhood had been stolen from her, first by the Taar’kuun, then by the Alliance, then by the Taar’kuun again. She had a lot of catching up to do.

  The planetarium welcomed her with a solemn, atmospheric music. She slowed her pace and admired the majestic arms of the galaxy gliding above her head.

  “The Milky Way,” announced a deep male voice. “Our galaxy, our home. Made of billions and billions of stars and planets, it’s a place of wonder, creation, destruction, and never-ending transformation.”

  If only you could see the universe as I see it, she thought.

  Yet she was happy to see the galaxy with human eyes, experience a sense of childish wonder as her gaze slid over the shimmering clouds of galactic arms. Nebulae burst into life around her, a festival of color and surreal shapes.

  “You like it?” Talia asked.

  “I love this place,” Ophelia replied. “I feel…at home. But the map of the Milky Way is incomplete. Something vital is missing.” She pointed at a nebula. “See that glowing network there?”

  The screen zoomed on the portion of nebula she pointed at.

  “Yes, that’s strange,” Talia said pensively.

  “It’s the Galactic Rhizome, called simply the Rhizome by biostronomers. A network of organisms living in space. It spreads throughout the galaxy.”

  Talia’s eyebrows went up in a puzzled expression. “Really? I heard of space trees, organisms living in space, but a galactic network?”

  Ophelia nodded. “That’s what makes the Rhizome so fascinating. Space trees, as you call them, don’t stretch throughout the galaxy, of course. That would be impossible. Their clusters are linked by branches that go through stable wormholes.”

  “Wow,” Talia breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a phenomenon. Creating a wormhole requires a tremendous amount of energy, and maintaining it…”

  “The Rhizome have kept those wormholes open for millions of years. Maybe even billions of years. The space trees stabilize them somehow. I believe the Oneiroi created this network in the distant past. That’s how their ships traveled through the universe.”

  “Mind-blowing.” Talia contemplated the thin filaments glowing on the screen. “How come we don’t use this Rhizome network for space travel?”

  “The Taar’kuun created their own interstellar gates because they don’t trust the Oneiroi’s creations. Even worse, the Taar’kuun are actively destroying the Rhizome. They believe it poses a threat to them.”

  “But can our ships use this network?”

  Ophelia nodded. “I don’t see why not. I also know there is a Rhizome cluster not far from the Sol system. We could use it to journey to Earth.”

  Talia stared at her with wide eyes. That revelation could have huge politica
l implications. It meant that the Earthists’ project was not as unrealistic as DeCourt had claimed.

  “So when Adrian promised to lead the Earthists to Terra, he knew that could be achieved,” Talia said in low voice.

  “I’m sure my father wouldn’t make empty promises. He knows quite a bit about biostronomy and the Rhizome.”

  Talia’s face brightened. “Let’s not talk about such serious things for now, okay? I want to have some fun. Fancy a lunch in a traditional Ceresian restaurant? Ever tried dishes from Ceres?”

  Ophelia smiled back. “I’d love to. How come we have real food on the Capitol?”

  “Hydroponic farms now provide naturally grown fruit and vegetables to the Alliance. We also have cell culture farms producing in vitro meat. It’s the best way to have animal proteins without killing animals. Don’t think too much about that, okay? Just enjoy your meal.”

  They left the planetarium and ambled to the restaurant. A waiter ushered them to a table for two next to a window. From there they could enjoy a view of the Shield Nebula.

  Ophelia’s eyes wandered through the menu on her interactive screen. She’d never seen such a variety of dishes. “How can I choose?” she exclaimed. “It’s just…too much!”

  “Take your time,” Talia said with a soft smile. “I remember I reacted the same way when a friend took me to a Ceresian restaurant for the first time.”

  Her smile grew bittersweet as she probably relived the happy memories of her life on Vega-IV.

  “I can’t choose!” Ophelia said with a giggle. “It’s too much! I have no clue how those things taste. Choose for me, would you?”

  Talia nodded and made recommendations. Ophelia followed them and punched her selection. Talia ordered an aperitif for both, a cocktail with two percent alcohol.

  “I’ve never had any alcoholic drinks,” Ophelia confessed. “Father doesn’t want me to drink any alcohol. He says it would be bad for my neurons.”

  Talia chuckled. “He’s overprotective, like many fathers. Trust me, you’re an adult now, and your body can handle a small amount of alcohol. It’ll help you relax. As a doctor, I guarantee your neurons will be fine.”

  A waiter brought them the cocktails in tall glasses. Their cerulean color was reminiscent of a tropical sea.

  “Cheers!” Talia lifted her glass, her hazel eyes sparkling.

  “Cheers!” Ophelia imitated her, then took a sip. An unknown sensation spread through her body, fresh and warm at the same time. “Mmm… Delicious!” She took another sip. “Its taste is soft, and zesty, and rich, and juicy. How do they manage to combine so many sensations in one glass?”

  “Slow down,” Talia told her with a chuckle. “This stuff is best enjoyed in moderation.”

  Suddenly her face grew serious, and a concerned expression replaced her smile.

  Ophelia turned to the woman who’d grabbed Talia’s attention. She recognized her from the news—Shana Multan. The leader of the Earthists swanned into the restaurant, her black dress sparkling. Four men accompanied her.

  “Ah, Dr. Galen!” Shana Multan spread her arms and sailed toward their table, as if she intended to hug Talia. “What a lovely surprise. I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

  Ophelia gaped at the woman, admiring her expertly applied makeup, her jewelry, and her dress that advantageously exposed her graceful legs. Shana epitomized elegance and style. She turned to Ophelia and added, without waiting for Talia’s reply, “My, my, what a lovely young lady. How come I’ve never seen you before. I would’ve remembered such a beautiful face.”

  Ophelia blushed and lowered her eyes. “Thank you, I’m…”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re having a private conversation,” Talia said politely but firmly.

  Shana pouted, giving them a sad puppy look. “My apologies, ladies. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to say hello and buy you a drink, if you don’t mind. I’m a big admirer of your friend, Dr. Darus. And I’m also an admirer of your work, doctor. Your courage is…inspiring.”

  She brought her right hand to her chest in a graceful gesture and added, “You’re my heroes. You’re heroes to all of us. Without you, there would be no Alliance. I know my father had some differences of opinion with Dr. Darus, but I assure you I have only admiration for you. Enjoy your lunch. Again, I apologize for the intrusion.”

  She was turning around when Ophelia said, almost despite herself, “Please don’t leave.”

  Talia darted a sharp look at Ophelia, but the damage had been done. Shana turned to them again, beaming.

  “You must be Dr. Darus’s daughter, the famous Ophelia Darus,” Shana cooed. “I’m so pleased and honored to meet you.”

  Ophelia’s security detail came to their table, ready to chase the Earthists away at the first sign of trouble. But Ophelia didn’t want Shana to go. She couldn’t help but feel fascination. That woman was civil, friendly, and sophisticated, nothing like the fanatic who’d taken her father hostage a few months ago. What was her name again? Adisa Multan.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Ophelia replied with caution, shaking Shana’s hand. “Are you here for work or leisure?”

  Shana gave an ambiguous, tight-lipped smile. “A bit of both, actually. My work is done for today, so the fun can begin! Would you care to join me for drinks after lunch?”

  “Ophelia is otherwise engaged,” Talia replied curtly in her stead.

  “I understand,” Shana said with a nod. “Enjoy your lunch, and come to visit us on the Jamnagar. You’re always welcome.” Although she said that to both women, it was clear the invitation was addressed primarily to Ophelia.

  Once the Earthists were gone, Talia leaned toward Ophelia and said in low voice, “Don’t trust her.”

  “She seemed friendly. She doesn’t look like a terrorist or a fanatic at all. She’s nice.”

  Talia shook her head. “Her adoptive parents were dangerous people. That adoption wasn’t about starting a family; it was all about power. By taking Israr Multan’s surname, Shana became his successor in the Earthist organization. She’s running for the presidency.”

  Perplexed, Ophelia stared at her cocktail. The subtleties of politics eluded her. “If you think she’s dangerous, I’ll stay away from her. But maybe you should give her the benefit of the doubt. You can’t hold children accountable for their parent’s mistakes. What if she’s not such a bad person?”

  31

  No one is perfect

  Talia had to cut short her trip to the Capitol as duty called her to the hospital. After lunch, she left Ophelia in the capable hands of her security detail and took a shuttle to Base Alpha.

  While on the shuttle, she called Kor and inquired about the manhunt.

  “Still nothing,” Kor growled. “Takamori vanished. I’m sure that son of a bug had help from the Earthists. That scum’s everywhere.”

  “What have you done with Cordova?”

  Kor sniggered. “Don’t worry, doctor, I’m not torturing him. Winsley and I explained to him it’s in his best interest to cooperate. He’s locked up tight, of course. Our techs are building an interstellar transmitter to send messages to his pals.”

  “You think he’ll cooperate?”

  “We might need your help with that. I’m not asking you to stuff him with some drug. But if he was brainwashed, maybe you could come up with a technique to revert his conditioning.”

  “I’ll do my best. I want to believe he was brainwashed, maybe because the alternative is too frightening to contemplate. But if it turns out he chose to betray mankind because of a psychological trauma, I’ll provide counseling.”

  Battlegroup Vega arrived when the shuttle was beginning its descent through the atmosphere. The exit of a wormhole flashed in the sky, and four dots appeared in a straight line. Talia couldn’t see the ships at that distance, only the jets from their thrusters.

  Her heart sped up as she thought about her friends on those ships. Especially Adrian. Her excitement mingled with concern as she heard on the ASF chan
nel that some had been gravely injured. Riley had survived two life-threatening wounds and was to be transported to Talia’s hospital for further treatment.

  Talia threw herself into work as soon as she arrived. First, she treated a patient suffering from a scorp bite, a Nean creature that had the uncanny ability to slip through the tiniest cracks and carried enough poison to kill ten people. Scorp bites were fatal if left untreated.

  As she finished working on the patient, the dropship transporting Riley touched down on the hospital roof. Talia ordered her personnel to prepare an operation table for Riley.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Riley’s face. The medical officer of the Remembrance had done a good job at stabilizing her condition, but he was no cosmetic surgeon. For now, the burned half of her face was hidden under a layer of white medical gel.

  Riley gave her a brave half-smile. “Now I look like a real veteran, doctor. No need for medals.”

  Talia returned Riley’s smile, although hers was tinged with sadness. “Oh, Riley. I’m just glad you made it back alive. I’ve heard about your hardships. Don’t worry about your face—it’ll be as good as new.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Talia. I don’t care that much about my appearance, if I can keep on fighting. Look at the bright side—now I don’t have to worry about the guys chasing me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Talia’s smile grew sly. “You’ll have to worry about at least one of them.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Talia replied innocently. “Now please lie still and stop talking while I’m examining you.”

  *****

  Adrian wanted to see his daughter. All the rest could wait. He called her apartment, but she didn’t answer. When he called the sergeant in charge of her safety, he learned she was on the Capitol.

  By the stars, what is she doing on that tacky pleasure barge?

  He decided to see for himself and took a shuttle from the Remembrance to the said “pleasure barge.” Oblivious to the ads, he walked quickly toward Ophelia’s location displayed as a golden dot on his HUD. His blood boiled as he realized he was headed to a bar.