“Are you suggesting that what's happening, at least in part, isn't random?”
“In a sense, yes. Let me explain: it's possible that someone, of unknown origin, has decided to make you aware of your true origins.”
“And the only way... is to deactivate the chip.”
“Exactly. But it would have to be done in a way that the Ikalians don't notice it.”
“Yes, but to what end?”
“I can't really hazard a guess, but I think it's inconceivable that a Taahrian's processor could just give out without anyone noticing. Using the Alpha Orionis as an example, it would be equivalent of forgetting to install the most basic of security systems. And though an organic mind may forget, I doubt that the thousands of AI's, who surely contributed to the construction of this ship, could.”
“Your logic is quite sound. We should keep listening to see what we can discover. At this point, the only thing left to do is to reawaken the others, before the Ikalians do so.”
“Won't it be dangerous?”
“At this point, we have nothing to lose.”
28
Looking at himself in the mirror, Xnoris thought about how different he was from a Taahrian, even if, all in all, he wasn't that much so from a human. His features, the color of his skin and body, and his proportions differed significantly, but they had an anthropomorphic figure in common. This reasoning, plus the images of other galactic civilizations shown by the Ikalians, had convinced the Terrestrials that life, aspiring to intelligence, had opted for similar solutions, at least within a thousand light year radius.
This conception corresponded to reality; but it was a shame that the identity of the complex organization which dealt with the relationship between twenty one worlds was the Ikalian Empire: a name that, to the humans' ears, would've sounded vastly different from the “Confederation for Interplanetary Cooperation.”
The last call from the Command Center had definitively confirmed the quality of his work. The signals from Eldgh's neural processor were now in sync with those of the other chips in the cryogenically frozen Taahrians.
Xnoris had wasted the best years of his life studying; but now, the knowledge that he was the best gave him untold satisfaction.
Earth, or Blue C, as most of his brethren called it, was a planet that was brighter and more colorful than Ikali, so that anyone who came from their system needed to have nano-surgically implanted filters to mitigate the type and amount of solar radiation received by their eyes.
Aesthetically, humans were nothing to go crazy for, though their appearance was more agreeable than many other races. Their social organization was theoretically sound, but there was something in the human psyche that prevented them from putting it into practice. Their lack of discipline was not necessarily synonymous with stupidity; on the contrary. But humans tended toward excess. You had to give them credit for being enlightened enough not to oppose the Ikalians' intentions. The lesson learned from the Taahrian attack they had suffered was that the use of arms against a more advanced civilization was tantamount to suicide. What especially fascinated Xnoris was the human imagination, synonymous with a rich multitude of characteristics, which led each of them to be very different from the other; always within a common matrix, but less standardized than most Ikalians. Obviously, there were exceptions. In fact, more and more often lately, Xnoris had felt like anything but an imperialist Ikalian.
Only in the last few days had he noticed how some Terrestrials were devoted to living beings that were intellectually inferior: called domesticated animals or pets, these fish, birds, small rodents, reptiles, dogs and cats were fed and cared for, in exchange for their loyalty. The idea was also in vogue on Ikali, Xnoris thought: they would approach a less advanced civilization on a new world, and domesticate the people in exchange for their loyalty.
Pets to play with and nothing more, Xnoris reflected with a broad smile on his lips.
29
During the early stages of the Betelgeuse's stationary orbit, Eldgh had previously been obliged to remain in suspended animation; but now, thanks in part to Namiko's reminiscences, the First Officer understood the ship's simulation powers well. Last month, the two had made enormous progress toward reversing the fate of their tragic adventure. Generating artificial data via the central computer proved to be child's play. The Earth woman had even learned to effectively use the holodeck, which fortunately contained various Blue C landscapes in its memory. The illusion of breathing in sea air, or of being in a strange tropical forest, or even in a crowded Parisian bistro, had a palliative magic, allowing her, after all this time, to relax and recharge her energies. Both were satisfied not so much by having fun with the game's most advanced virtual galaxy, as by being able, with the support of the AI's, to produce illusory instrument readings that would replace the real ones sent directly to Ikali.
Circumventing the preset navigational instructions was another significant victory. Their goal, in addition to understanding every nuance of that absurd story, was to prevent the Alpha Orionis and its crew from continuing to conquer more worlds. One sour note was their inability to interfere with the subspace signal being received by chips installed in the Taahrians. Eldgh despaired many times in the knowledge that, without outside help, which was unlikely, he would never be able to free the minds of his brethren. Abruptly waking them from animation was out of the question. It would've ended up killing almost everyone; and the few survivors, due to the interrupted flow of data, would have only partial memories and cognitive processes, thus reducing them to miserable cripples. Both decided that, even if they could wake the Taahrians with all of their faculties intact, these mentally conditioned beings could be dangerous.
“The last thing I want,” Eldgh said distinctly, during one of their conversations,“is to come up against a handful of hostile Taahrians and be forced to kill again.”
With all that was happening recently, Namiko had almost forgotten about Commander Yijesh, or at least she had tried to forget the horrible scene of his murder.
“I was the one who killed him...” she whispered despondently.
“The reality is that I ordered you to do it,” the First Officer replied with conviction. “I promise you that'll never happen again.”
Namiko wanted to believe him, but her instincts suggested quite the opposite.
During the final days of that month, having come close to a red dwarf, they became convinced that they should return to Earth, and didn't miss the opportunity: having come out of hyperspace, they took advantage of the star's gravitational force, and, after some complex operations, were able to reverse their course.
The maneuvers having been successful and having overcome the strain on the hull, which wasn't entirely balanced out by the gravitational plates on the ship, Eldgh asked: “Are you exhausted?”
“No,” Namiko replied by telegraph.
“And yet I see that you're tired.”
“I'm just nervous about our plan.”
“It'll work. You'll see.”
“There are too many unknown variables; too many things that could go wrong.”
“It's actually not as crazy as you might think.”
“You think? Because to me, it looks like suicide.”
“Do we have an alternative?”
“No.”
30
Igor was certain that he would never get used to that terrifying smell: a mix of alcohol, medication and organic waste. In some respects, it was like being in a prison; in others, it actually looked like a hospital ward, hence the name “Psychiatric Hospital.”
Upon his arrival, it became immediately clear to Igor that he had to measure the weight of every single word. Troubled nurses and doctors, repressing their insane need to experience omnipotence, constantly acted with the intent to cause patients to lose control. But Igor didn't fall for it: he remained calm, letting his anger build and talking to himself for hours, in a low voice, cursing the aliens and the whole world. Yet, somewhere inside
himself, he knew that he couldn't hold out forever. Seeing all those people, being carried away in the throes of hysterical screams, while he remained calmly in his spot, engendered a sense of guilt. So, one day, he gave in to that impulse to be disobedient. Kicking, punching and profanity guaranteed that he would share the gloomy rooms with those who had insane visions, and people who had raped corpses, slaughtered young women, or had killed and eaten children. After five days of being strapped to a stretcher and stuffed with devastating psychotropic drugs, he decided he'd had enough. He returned to his solitude and his whispering, which evoked memories of the Alpha Orionis' corridors and the shocking violence he had suffered with the mindreading drone. Even a thousand days strapped to a stretcher would be a joke compared to that experience.
In moments of lucidity, during sessions with the psychiatrist, he tried to explain how absurd it was that one of the six heroes who had saved the world was now locked up in an asylum. The doctor rarely engaged in that type of discourse; nevertheless, during one of his last sessions, he had ultimately responded: “This isn't an asylum; it's a mental hospital.”
As if that made a difference, Igor thought.
“Of course, doctor; but after all that I've done... the service to our world... I deserve...”
“Mister Petrov, Franz Franke was one of the six heroes too. And yet, he ended up in prison.”
“But he's a terrorist, ” Igor objected, after having made use of the television in the common room, which was only for those whose behavior had been deemed “excellent”.
“And you're sick, Mister Petrov, so you need our care.”
From that day forward, Igor always avoided the topic. It was impossible to have any rapport with the other patients; at least that was what he had decided. Fortunately for him, the hospital was located in the middle of a forest. So, when the windows were open, or on those rare occasions when he managed to earn the possibility of spending time outside, he inhaled the scents of nature. And when that happened, it was like being caressed: refreshed and recharged to go back and face the crazy world inside that big madhouse.
The arrival of the Ikalians had completely floored him. Not so much because they undermined his vision of things, as because the new enemy he was fighting was stronger and better organized than expected. It was one thing to have a spaceship as their whole world and nothing more, but quite another to have an ally suddenly appear. And yes, Franz was convinced of that: the Taahrians and the Ikalians were in cahoots. They were far too similar to each other, not only in their manner of doing things, but also physically. They probably belonged to the same species. Besides that, he couldn't tell them apart. The differences between a man from Southeast Asia and a Swedish woman would've been more marked than that those between the Ikalians and the Taahrians. If only the world had understood him, his organization would've, at that point, been evolved enough to continue to really give the invaders a hard time. The only way to hit them hard was to get aboard the Great Emerald and blow himself up in a suicide mission. When he had been in the special forces, he had found himself having to fight terrorism on many occasions; but, since the aliens' arrival, given how blind the governments had become, he had been forced to intervene by any means necessary, even against those who had taught him to fight, the Kommando Spezialkräfte.
There had to be many other dissidents among the various governments' ranks. Franz was certain of it. But it was evident that none was powerful enough to get involved, at least not through official channels.
There were many theories circulating among conspiracy theorists. One of the most curious was that which asserted that the Taahrians and Ikalians were allied with the North-Central American Super State and Asian Super State, respectively, in order to seize power on Earth in a race for galactic supremacy.
However, Franz had often thought, you can't stop us all. You won't succeed! Never! There are too many of us, organized and ready for anything. And you? Are you?
There was recent news of a major attack on an Ikalian settlement. The event had ended up on front pages around the world, and had been followed by the unexpected news that the Ikalians would refrain from any type of retaliation.
Franz interpreted this reaction as a strategy to deceive the Terrestrials. Fake pacifists ready to strike. An elementary but effective tactic.
The aliens were at the forefront of Franz's thoughts, as they were with most of humanity, so much so that even the delivery of his meal was distracting.
“Time will prove me right,” he said to the prison guard.
“About what, you crazy bastard?” asked the guard through the peephole.
“The Ikalians will destroy us all!”
“Yeah, right. Sure they will.”
31
Six months.
That's how long it had been since the Ikalians had arrived; and almost everything that the Taahrians had left incomplete had been repaired and improved. More than one Super State had ventured to swear to its people that soon, the human race would make its debut in the teeming and extraordinary life of galactic society.
The Ikalians had told them about the existence of a Confederation for Interplanetary Cooperation. From their copious documentation, it was clear that dozens of species had already joined. The group's purpose was to ward off attacks by hostile races, like the Taahrians.
In support of these statements, they distributed videos of diplomatic meetings between them and other civilizations. Obviously, there were those who were uncertain about the reliability of movies, which could be easily manipulated. Yet, this time, there was no visual illusion. Every single hologram reflected the reality of moments that had occurred in the past. The deception consisted of having substituted the word allied for conquered. Each of the alien races depicted had albino skin rather than dark, and two eyes instead of three, and had ended up being completely subjugated by the Ikalians.
Entire cities had remained standing and millions of sick people had been rescued from oblivion. In light of such results, most of Blue C's population not only perceived the Ikalians' presence as favorable, but also felt extremely grateful to them.
In short, they had received the technology necessary to overcome every type of disease and for interstellar travel. Their ability to reach other stars was their admission card to enter the Confederation. To best address these scenarios, the Ikalians' representatives had requested, and had definitely received, the right to play a leading role in the affair. This necessitated the establishment of new institutions, of which the aliens, at least initially, would be the leaders. However, there was still a risk if even one Super State failed to endorse this. Such would've gravely undermined the Blue C world union.
To avoid such an obstacle, they had developed a specific plan of mental conditioning aboard the Sjunish.
The emperor and his followers were convinced that nothing and no one could stop them.
32
The six weeks that followed Sirio's and Ingrid's first date were the beginning of rapid and intense evolution in their relationship, which seemed like years. Even their most boring accomplishments became a wonderful opportunity to get together. Working in separate rooms allowed them both to arrive at their lunch break with an extraordinary tension.
Their evening dates multiplied over successive weeks, until they were going out every single night and spending magical weekends together, enjoying erotic games, art-house films and candlelight dinners.
When he was with Ingrid, Sirio was an infinitely happy man, as if a joyous purifying rain had cleansed away every bad thought. As time passed, he continued to discover, more and more, that she was not only a beautiful woman, but a person who could satisfy his every desire, even the silliest, to the point of knowing his wishes before he did, like a mind reader.
During the first weekend they had spent together, on that Saturday night when they had initially slept alongside each other, all of the apprehension that had come over Sirio after they had first made love, became more like memories that belonge
d to a stranger. His sense of guilt, the Ikalians, past nightmares and fears of an uncertain future all melted like snow in the sun, turning a nuclear winter into a spring blossom.
Sirio Bastiani was under a deadly spell, which had led him to a magical place in which there was no room for Namiko.
For the first time since he had seen her on the monitor in the hole, Sirio spent an entire day without thinking about her.
Not even once.
33
“Do you think that we'll be able to stay hidden until the end?” Namiko asked.
“I hope so,” Eldgh replied.
The plan, which they had gone over tens of times, to the point of revising every detail, envisioned continuing to send simulated navigation data, enter the solar system, exiting hyperspace as late as possible, then getting around the asteroid belt and reemerging in the vicinity of terrestrial space. More specifically, they would have to reappear on the dark side of the Moon, accepting the two per cent possibility that they might crash into it instead.
Subsequently, only when they ascertained that Blue C was between them and the orbiting Sjunish, would they reappear in front of the planet.
At first sight of the Ikalian ship, they would use all of the Alpha Orionis' offensive power, hitting the enemy's weapons and thrusters, rendering the other vessel lifeless, with no need to actually damage the generators for life support.
At that point, with the situation in hand, they could take their time to decide what to do. After all, any reinforcements from Ikali would take at least six months to arrive.
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