“It wasn't easy to get these technological gems all the way from Ikali,” Vorxion said.
“And it wasn't easy for me to realize an idea with nanorobots, given the lousy data about your biology that you've provided,” Quarkban replied.
“Is that how you Prrism'aarth thank people?”
The researcher pulled himself away from the holographic pulse microscope and looked straight at the individual questioning him.
“No one should be thanking anyone. We're both risking our lives for a common goal. Each is essential to the other. You in the resistance have done your job. Now let us do ours.”
While you couldn't really say that the Ikalians were inclined to kid around, the Prrism'aarth didn't even seem to have good manners.
The truth is that they hate us, Vorxion thought.
Although he spoke animatedly, all of the reptilians in the secret laboratory remained intent on their own work. Their faces, their scaly skin and their eyes fascinated Vorxion in a way that he found difficult to explain.
“Well, you could at least tell me how to proceed.”
Quarkban, having gone back to concentrating on his work, looked up at the Ikalian.
“Constructing a nanometric mechanism capable of destroying an organism is child's play. The difficult part is forcing it to interact solely with the given cells, in the time and manner that you want. If we fail to inhibit it with a simple command, it'll be a disaster.”
“I wouldn't want to jeopardize your operation, much less cause you to hurry.”
“In any event, I can tell you,” said the researcher, ignoring Vorxion's observation, “that we're not far from the final result. Those problems with the dipoles and surface tension have been resolved. My finest collaborators are working to complete the quantum computation instructions. Once the virus is finished, the problem will be to test it.”
“I think you'll need an Ikalian.”
“Obviously. And there's not even one nearby.”
That statement shook the revolutionary. The Prrism'aarth never smiled; and their sense of irony was basically unknown, if it had ever existed.
Was he serious? Impossible! Very inconvenient at the very least. Best not to think about it...
“We already have a target on which to test the nanorobots,” the Ikalian assured them. “You don't need to concern yourself with that.”
Without further ado, Vorxion turned to leave. By now, he knew well that saying goodbye was one of the many courtesies of which these people were unaware.
“Quarkban,” he added before reaching the exit.
The researcher turned.
“That virus doesn't leave here until you've developed a means of deactivating it from a distance.”
The reptilian looked at him without saying a word.
“Damned Prrism'aarth,” the Ikalian swore in a dialect unknown to the translator device.
2
The first of the three huge fragments of the Sjunish fell onto the French Alps at nine twenty seven local time. Throughout the entire region of Provence, thousands of people saw a giant, twisted glowing mass hiss through the blue sky. Its impact against Monte Pelvoux was devastating: a million cubic meters of rock and Ikalian metal coalesced into a monstrous, extraordinary spectacle. The Pointe Puiseux summit crumbled and the Pelvoux's Glacier Blanc exploded into billions of fragments that fell over a thirty kilometer radius. The Three Teeth of Pelvoux detached, creating tremendous avalanches.
The Earth shook.
The second block, hit by three sonic missiles launched from the Betelgeuse, exploded into thousands of tiny fragments, some of which were vaporized as they came in contact with the atmosphere. Unfortunately, those were only a minority: a shower of metal pieces inundated Switzerland and Northern Italy. Pieces of the Sjunish the size of buses crashed in the mountains, forests and lakes, but also onto homes, parks, bridges, roads and schools. The areas most affected were the city of Basel and the outskirts of Bern.
The mistake they had made with the second block was not repeated with the third. Not to mention that there was no weapon capable of dissolving a mass so large in such a short time aboard the Alpha Orionis.
The third five hundred meter long section sunk deep in the Ligurian Sea.
Several tidal waves were recorded off the coasts of Corsica, Nice and the island of Elba.
The tally was four thousand twenty three dead, eighteen thousand wounded and over two thousand buildings damaged.
The Taahrians had returned to save the Earth.
No one would've ever believed it.
3
After the rain of debris had devastated the heart of Europe, there was no longer any room for speculation and debate.
The Taahrians had become enemies of humanity, hopelessly and forever.
At the same instant in which the Sjunish had plummeted into the abyss of destruction, the fate of entire worlds had started to plummet also. Everything had changed for Ikali, Earth and Pristh. But how? This was the inextricable doubt, from which answers would only emerge reluctantly.
For the Terrestrials and their representatives, the event they termed "the Fall" was disturbing. And it wasn't the Taahrians or the deaths of thousands of people which shocked them most. What made them shiver was the way the Ikalians capitulated. The protectors of the galaxy had fallen apart. It was a scenario that changed everything: it left Earth at the mercy of a devious and unscrupulous invader. Yet the leaders of the Super States had to grope and rack their brains to try to find a solution; to succeed where others had failed. During the first Secret World Council, they were provided with a list of available weapons. Recalling the Korean nuclear warhead debacle, the list appeared ridiculous, almost embarrassing. Directly attacking the Taahrians was ruled out. Waiting. This was the only solution. It offered two considerable advantages: the first was a hope that the Ikalian military units would arrive quickly; and the second was time to react to the invasion with asymmetrical warfare. To do what the Native Americans had with the Europeans or the Mujahideen against the Red Army: hit the enemy targets with unconventional warfare techniques. This was the only tactic which could save mankind.
4
They had simulated and planned every detail dozens of times. What the hell had happened? Xnoris felt his two hearts go into fibrillation. He had promised to directly assist with operations during the attack, but had to back out as he was obliged to perform other tasks that didn't allow for procrastination. Obviously, nothing was more important than the attack, but, being tailed by a group of his Ikalian brothers, he had been forced to rely exclusively on Eldgh's insights. On the other hand, Xnoris had isolated himself beyond measure, disappearing several times. His role was too important for him to be exposed, and the suspicion that his companions knew something was wrong had gotten stuck in his head. So, when he tried to leave, seeing wary looks around him had made him desist. From a certain point of view, he had considered this to be a good thing: being near the Earth, intercepting communications between him and the Alpha Orionis would be relatively easy. And since he was one of the leading experts in subspace data transmission, not to mention maintenance of Eldgh's processor, he would attract all imperial attention to himself. The plan was to then escape his fate by taking refuge among the enemy ranks. The best moment to do this would be right after the attack.
The ensuing pandemonium would allow him to disappear quickly. He had also never given any weight to his lack of participation in the active stages of the clash. The captain claimed to have committed every detail to memory. So Xnoris estimated, or perhaps merely justified to himself, that his collaboration from a distance was irrelevant to the development of the story; but after having seen the Sjunish fall apart, he knew how wrong he had been. He had learned about it by watching images on the terrestrial televisions. In minutes, they had turned the entire world upside down.
Xnoris was shocked, like most of his comrades.
It was a catastrophe.
Being able to subdue the Sjun
ish, and dictate the terms of its surrender, was a very different scenario from its annihilation. In the first instance, they would have had a chance to begin negotiations, taking the second most important ship in the empire hostage, after having already taken possession of the first. With its destruction, however, they had not only had lost all of that, but were doomed to face an immediate and furious reaction from the empire. Xnoris knew Saarin all too well. He'd explode with rage. And, although powerful, the Betelgeuse would not be able to face the entire imperial fleet without the support of the Sjunish. Finally, it raised another thorny issue. After that unfortunate incident, the Taahrians were doomed to be mankind's arch-enemy.
How could this have happened?
What had they done wrong?
Technical errors? Computational errors? Had Eldgh needed more hand-holding? He ignored that. The only thing of which he was certain was that it never should've happened. It was unacceptable. Impossible. Unheard of. Insane. Were the Taahrians crazy?
Perhaps that whole foolishness with the deactivation and reprogramming of their neural processors had burned out their brains.
What the hell! he thought.
Now, the only chance to bring the empire to its knees was for the Mtjugiaankh to take immediate action on Pristh. Who knows how close they might be to finishing the virus. What would he say to Vorxion? On the one hand, he felt ashamed, as though he was personally responsible. Not only because the mission had failed, but because of the high number of innocent victims, both Ikalian and Terrestrial. On the Sjunish, the bloodthirsty military imperialists were a distinct minority. In any case, he had to advise Vorxion before the latter's next imperial communication.
Xnoris looked around. He was inside an unadorned, drab room that served as a meeting place at their base camp. His companions' astonishment had allowed him to get away without being noticed.
Contacting the Alpha Orionis and Pristh were his priorities.
5
The Taahrians' permanence on a world being conquered, according to Hatmnal's proposal, not only allowed them to establish first contact, but to sound out every detail about the new species to be conquered in depth. In the case of Blue C, three years had been more than sufficient to develop a perfect copy of a human being. Unbeknownst to Eldgh, specific droids had carried out a thorough scan of a charming Norwegian girl. The plans were then finished on Ikali. It was a project which only involved a small number of scientists. A fact of which even the Mtjugiaankh were unaware. After receiving the data, it only took a few months to create, at least from the aesthetic and behavioral aspects, an exact copy of the girl.
Hundreds of human androids like this had disembarked from the Sjunish. Controlled remotely by the ship's quantum computers, their goal was to infiltrate human society and influence specific subjects.
After having made contact with the designated Terrestrial, the biosynthetic being could then emit brainwaves to profoundly affect the individual's behavior. It was a process less invasive than surgically implanting neural chips, which've taken many more years of work. Knowing the intricate neural patterns of an alien race well enough to make them interact seamlessly with a quantum microprocessor remained one of the most complex processes in the galaxy.
At the same instant that the Alpha Orionis destroyed the Ikalian starship, the minds of hundreds of blond girls fell apart. Some just acquired a vacant stare, as if under a spell; some fainted and fell to the ground, and others remained paralyzed and fixed in place. Deprived of their connection to the ship, the androids' operating system, with the aid of several emergency subroutines, had restarted in emergency mode. Once reactivated, their job was to get away at the first opportunity and self-destruct without being seen. With their mother ship out of the game, the Ikalians couldn't afford to be discovered. Every trace had to be eliminated. So half of the world, lovers, fiancées, friends and strangers saw these blond angels bounce back, as if nothing had happened, and then, with or without excuses, get away. No one had the ability to force them to get assessments at a hospital. And if strangers weren't able to sufficiently insist, those with more personal feelings were completely disoriented and unable to act, due to the interruption of a high quantity of brain waves which were now a permanent part of them. Only an android could cross the emergency entrance for first aid, at the risk of being subjected to a CT scan. But somehow, shortly before the exam, all trace of the subjects was eliminated. And in a day as chaotic as that of the Fall, no one connected the disappearances. There were only a few hundred, all far apart from each other, which were merely added to the thousands which took place every day around the world.
6
The days passed and the Alpha Orionis remained in orbit, immobile and silent, like the first time it had appeared in the skies.
“Why?” was the question being asked around the world.
Government officials, scientists and journalists launched an infinite number of hypotheses.
Were the Taahrians awaiting a reaction from Earth? If so, it made little sense. Maybe they were just refining the details of the invasion. But with all that technology and their use of advanced AI's, it seemed absurd that it would take so long.
Pessimists imagined that the Taahrians were waiting for reinforcements, leaving no hope for either the Terrestrials or the Ikalians. Optimists, however, theorized that Ikalian ships were closer than believed and had conducted a lightning strike, only to be attacked, which had led to their demise. Among their ranks, many others argued that the ship could've had a serious technical problem.
In the end, it was the Ikalian representatives on Earth who resolved their doubts. It was news that, in an instant, became every network's top story:
“The Alpha Orionis was seriously damaged during the battle with our ship.”
The discovery merited subspace telemetry for intensive examinations of the Sjunish. The type of damage suffered had inhibited their ability to begin the initial stages of occupation.
The Ikalian addressing them had appeared sure of himself and to be acting in good faith. And he was. That big lie was the product of an imperial communication full of lies. A deception that would infuse survivors and Terrestrials with courage. To the empire, it was obvious that the Taahrians hadn't invaded Blue C, but the reason why they were still completely immobile was inexplicable.
7
Namiko had refused to look at the consequences of the Sjunish's impact. She was very upset and so furious as to border on delirium. While not a disaster comparable to what had shocked the entire planet a few years earlier, the Japanese woman felt frustrated and betrayed as never before. If the first event had been a catastrophic accident, this was not. Eldgh and his crew weren't under the influence of anyone and they had had ample time to prepare. So it was intentional and reckless, and for that, there was no justification. With the AI and all of the technology at their disposition, how had they not factored in the consequences which would result from the attack? It was a question that had troubled her for several days, which she had spent in her quarters in total isolation. She would've never been able to remain calm in the midst of all these purple rag dolls. But she also hated the fact that she was doing nothing. But what should she do? Eldgh didn't have a plan, the Taahrians didn't have a plan, and she had no plan. And to avoid a thousand long discussions, she had ordered Eldgh not to bother her without reason.
The food inside her room would've been enough for several meals. Given her lack of appetite and the disgusting quality of the food, it might've even lasted for weeks, or even months. Then Eldgh, contrary to his nature, violated Namiko's privacy, without even asking permission.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh, though a small part of her was happy that he was there.
“It's this last misfortune. It wasn't my intention...”
“Oh really? You couldn't have reduced the power to a lower level? We both know the answer to that.”
“It all went perfectly in the simulator.”
“This is r
eality! Tell me if I'm wrong, but simulations, deceptions, holograms, subspace... perhaps you can't tell reality from fantasy any more.”
“You're wrong.”
“Then you're at fault too.”
“You know that's not true.”
“I... I saw your how you looked, full of hate...”
“And?”
“You gave the order, and the ship ended up in smithereens!”
The Commander stood and stared at her, then said: “For what reason would I ever do such a thing?”
Namiko was sure of the response: “Revenge!” she exclaimed.
“That's an emotion that I don't have.”
“Are you sure of that? You aren't the same Taahrian any more, not since that chip was deactivated.”
“You really don't believe me? We've spent months together, at each other's sides, for the same objective. You should know me by now.”
“And it's because I do know you that I know you feel there's no purpose to your existence. From the moment you discovered who you were, you've considered yourself a pawn in the hands of unscrupulous beings. You wanted to make them pay.”
“I used the same power level that I did in the simulations. But it came out differently. Perhaps the data we had was inexact or incomplete.”
“What will you tell the Earth's inhabitants? Sorry, we made a mistake, for the second time?”
Live or Die Trilogy Page 28