by Peter Kratky
“I think you are Freyja. You are the answer. You are the path that humanity must travel. We won't be afraid of you. Because we trust you. Everyone. If you ever fail, humanity will have failed. And if you ever triumph, humanity will have finally found rest, and a new future.”
Helen got up and approached the record player, who turned around with the plate spinning freely. She lifted the arm of the needle, and put it back in place. Then she turned slowly, and looked at Scott with a dark countenance:
“Do you realize, Scott, that you are, once again, betting humanity on a woman who isn't thirty years old and inexperienced? A woman who was nothing on Earth? That only had time to waste? Why are you doing this to me? Tell me about it. Why is that?”
“I told you, because you are Freyja.”
“Damn it!” she shouted with a thump to the table with her hand. “I'm not a goddess, Scott!”
“You are what humanity wants you to be. And now, humanity wanted you to be Freyja. That's your destiny. And you'll have to accept it. Or watch humanity die, and become extinct. And this time, forever.”
“I hate all this, Scott. I hate it.” Helen drew her hands to her face. A teardrop sketch rolled down his face.
“I know. And I understand that. It won't be easy. We'll all support you. But the pain, suffering, anguish, and fear will only be yours. That's your destiny. Since you were born. And until you die.”
“What if I never die?”
“Then there will never be peace for mankind.”
“What a comfort, Scott. At least I have you by my side.” Scott looked at her. And she understood that not even that desire could be fulfilled.
“I'm going to retire, Freyja.”
“Retire?”
“I cannot be your second in this new age. Pick someone else. Pavlov, for example.”
“What are you talking about, Scott? Your mind and your ability are vital to the progress of this operation. We need you.” Scott lowered his eyes slightly.
“I know, and I owe it to everyone. But what I have to do now, I have to do alone. I need a room, a lab, and a lot of quiet.” Helen looked up at him with a frown and her hand on her chin for a moment. Finally, she replied:
“Always the same, Scott. Always your mysteries, and your words flipped upside down... Anyway, all right. You're going to the Enterprise, or the Charles de Gaulle. I believe that both ships have already been recovered, and either one of them has sufficient equipment for any kind of experiments...”
“Yes, Helen.”
“Am I Helen now?”
“You're Helen to me. You'll always be Helen. But as part of this group of survivors, it is my duty to see that you remain Freyja to the end.”
“I see. And you're not going to tell me what this is about? What's on your mind?” Scott looked at Helen. His eyes trembled slightly.
“I'm just going to tell you that...” Scott hesitated for a moment.
“What?”
“That I will keep you informed of my progress.” Helen leaned back on the table as she breathed soundly, gesturing in a sense of defeat.
“It's all right. It's all right. Get out of here now. And take care of yourself. We need you.”
“Yes, Freyja.”
“My name will always be Helen's. But I'll do this pantomime. You and the others. Because you ask me to, and I trust you. But don't expect me to be a hero, Scott. I can't work miracles. I couldn't in the past. And I won't be able to now.”
“The miracle is to contemplate your strength and perseverance every day, Helen. That strength that encourages us all to move forward.”
“You're crazy, Scott. You, and everybody, for following me. But I'll try to live up to it. I hope this time we have options...”
Scott said nothing. He bowed simply and stepped out of the room. Helen sat in the chair. The computer showed Ronta's stolen data. Fortunately, it had been easy to decipher the LauKlar database. The image of the three-dimensional screen showed how they had spread from one side of the Galaxy to the other. Thousands and thousands of inhabited worlds.
“What a party is coming,” she whispered.
Wounds
The President and Narhum departed on the personal ship of the first to one of the hospital ships, known as Laia-Mar T-97. It was one of the ships that were treating the wounded from human attacks and their black ships. They were accompanied by Mirna, a young engineer who was only 120 years old and already had a promising career in the world of particle physics. Mirna had been studying the early analyses of the interaction of the strange energy emanating from human ships with common matter, and the preliminary findings made one thing clear: that energy required a reactor much larger than human ships in order to be generated. Bearing in mind that the human ships were not that large, the immediate question was where so much energy came from, and what exactly the type of energy it was.
“What did you find out, Mirna?” Narhum asked as they approached the medical ship.
“Not much. The decomposition of the material has been done on a subatomic scale, and it is as if the gluons themselves have stopped acting, breaking the hadrons into pieces. The result: the baryonic standard material decomposes. Metals, compounds... Everything. Everything is disposed of in a way we cannot understand.”
“That seems impossible,” said the President. “Such an energy would require a tremendously powerful energy source.”
“I know, President, and the conclusions are contradictory. Such an energy cannot exist, but we are seeing its results. The logical conclusion is that the human species has some technology that goes beyond our current knowledge and capabilities. I think we will be able to understand the exact nature of the black ray energy they project onto our ships, but I don't see how we can reproduce something like that in the short or medium term.” The President moved his wings slightly, with obvious nervousness.
“So we are completely defenseless in the face of this barbarity of destruction?”
“Let's get back to work, President. But I need to research more material, and compare results.”
“And where is Deblar? How could she allow this?” Narhum asked with exaltation, flapping his wings eagerly, in a rare gesture among the LauKlars. The President replied:
“I don't know. Her attitude to this issue is incomprehensible. She has certainly gone much further than she should have.”
“I think it all boils down to scientific interest,” Mirna said. “She's a great researcher, and it's hard to resist such an opportunity. Not that I'm trying to justify her actions, but...”
“I know, I know,” cut off the president,” but science must have limits, Mirna. For millennia, our research has progressed at an appropriate pace, and Deblar has complained about this at times. But patience, and painstaking work, is the only way to achieve progress and success without exposing our species, or other species, to obvious danger. And now, at the moment, we are contemplating the consequences of not adapting to the method.”
“I'll talk to her again,” Narhum said.
“And what good will it do?” the President replied. “Evil is already done. Now we will have to act, and find solutions. Or the human species will turn the Galaxy into an unprecedented chaos in the annals of our history, and in the history of all peoples that inhabit it.”
The president's personal ship approached the hospital ship.
“Personal Transport P-01 of the President requests permission to approach.”
“P-01, you have permission to dock at pier 323-B.”
The LauKlar T-97 hospital ship was designed from the outset for global disease control. In its seventy-three kilometers, it had housed thousands of different species in severe or very serious pandemic situations for thousands of years. Her mission consisted of helping any planet that required it, in which a disease had been established that threatened the disappearance of a large part of its population, or even its extinction. The LauKlars had earned a reputation as a miraculous species by treating species with diseases of all kinds,
many of them with mortality rates above 80%.
But, on that occasion, it was not species from anywhere in the galaxy that were being treated, but thousands of LauKlars victims, with hundreds of thousands injured by the attacks of black human ships. LauKlars of all ages swirled around in makeshift cures, while emergency medical units failed to treat many of them before they died.
The President, with Narhum and Mirna, took flight in a quick eye inspection. As they flew, they could feel perfectly the mental waves of pain coming from all over the ship. A pain of crying and death they couldn't bear.
“This is crazy,” Narhum said as they flew over the covered areas of wounded LauKlars. Some beings of other species, who had been affected by the attacks, were also visible, being served with the same promptness and resources as any LauKlar. Mirna intervened, saying:
“I hope to live to see every human being in the Galaxy die, and every last wreck of this cursed species destroyed.”
That's very good,” said the President. “But we need the means. Your work, Mirna, and that of the other investigators, will be fundamental in trying to prevent new attacks and to prepare a counteroffensive against human ships.” Mirna added:
“We'll come up with solutions, President, and we'll get them to pay for it. I myself will join the first warship where there is a position available. We'll fight those humans until all of them are destroyed, or even expelled from the Galaxy. “ Narhum looked at her and asked:
“And lose a mind like yours on the battlefield? No, my dear Mirna. Your will of vengeance is noble, but you will fight humans better in the laboratory.”
“That's right,” added the President. “Your gesture is very noble and honoring. But now the real war is not on the battlefield, nor on our fighter ships, practically useless in the face of human technology, whatever they employ to outperform us in this way. Now, the main war is, and I presume it will be, in the research laboratories, and in discovering the key to those human technologies, how they work, and how we can cope with them.”
“It could be a month's work. Or years,” Mirna suggested nervously.
“I know, I know,” answered the President bitterly. “But we have to get through all this and face them. There is no alternative now.”
“We will work until we find an answer,” Mirna said with obvious agitation. The President looked at her enthusiastically:
“Calm down, Mirna. I admire your strength, and I envy your youth. You, and those like you, are the future of our species. I am pleased to see that this strong and passionate heart knows how to see the reality of the facts, and understands the situation.”
“Always with you, President,” said Mirna.
After completing the inspection flight, the three LauKlars met with the ship's captain, who received them in their nesting area.
“It is an honor to receive you. I am the medical officer Kurkma, captain of the T-97” greeted all three of them as the officer spread his wings in a classic salute. Kurkma was the highest ranking officer on the medical ship.
“In other circumstances I would be delighted to receive his honors, Kurkma,” replied the President. “But here, and under this dantestic scenario of death and pain, I can only feel completely sorry and dismayed. Because I am, without a doubt, responsible for this massacre....”
“That's not true,” Kurkma replied. “I couldn't foresee such a thing. This situation, and this scenario, was completely and utterly unpredictable.”
“Are you sure, Kurkma?”
“I am, President. My crew and I are with you and the High Council.”
Suddenly, there was a signal. A giant three-dimensional screen appeared in front of them. Thousands of LauKlars turned their eyes. A shocked LauKlar appeared on the screen. Several wounds could be seen on his body, and his plumage was stained with blood. It was evident that he could only move one wing while the other was fallen on one side and lifeless.
“Does anyone hear me? I must speak to the President immediately!” the image shouted. “I am Commander Zamar of Nar-Mabiter, a heavy combat cruiser escorting civilian ships with LauKlars refugees and other species. Identification T-1139. Where's the president?” he asked again with great anguish. Behind them were flames, and several fallen LauKlars. Some dead, some crawling on their wings. Others more flying in chaotic formations. The President spoke:
“I'm here, Zamar. Can you see me?”
“We only get mental audio!”
“Doesn't matter! Report! What happened to you?”
“It's the humans, President! Two ships attacking us! One of them has a picture on it and... Yes! I think the image is the Fenrir, President! The Fenrir of Darwan Legend! We need urgent help! We're in the Nar-Tirma sector. Help me, please! Our weapons and defenses are useless, they move in a way we cannot understand or follow!” The President and Narhum looked at each other for a moment. Then the first answered:
“We will send ships immediately. Hang on, Zamar! Hang in there!”
“No! It's late! They're moving at a bewildering rate! They come and go! How can they...?” Commander Zamar never finished the sentence. There was an explosion. The image disappeared from the screen.
“Do you have any outside views?” asked the President.
“Yes, we have two probes there,” answered Kurkma. “We can target the area and the ship.”
He accessed a nearby panel. The image of the screen was placed on Commander Zamar's ship. The ship was partially open to vacuum, and several flashes were coming from its engines. Suddenly, the ship exploded into pieces, while one of the human ships cut the T-139 cleanly in half.
At that moment, several thousand LauKlars of the medical ship that had observed the scene began to emit a high-pitched sound, which would be almost imperceptible to the human ear. Others joined in. Soon, much of the LauKlars on the medical ship joined that expression of pain and suffering, which was only emitted in moments of great despondency and despair.
Finally, the whole ship was one. They were a mind. A village. One heart. All, and each one of them, living and feeling the suffering of those who had died. Thousands and thousands of them united in a harmony of despondency, anger, and frustration. Also of anguish, faced with the death of those LauKlars, who had perished before his eyes, in an explosion of such a power that the remains scattered at full speed, and in all directions. The LauKlars united their minds, and each felt the anguish of others within them. It was a pain that no LauKlar had felt for thousands and thousands of years.
Finally, the union ceased, and the ship was submerged, for an instant, in a great sepulchral silence. The President and Narhum felt several waves of pain and hatred as they had never felt in their lives, nor had they felt in thousands of generations LauKlars. The President looked at Narhum, and said to him:
“We must return, and report back to the High Council. We have to act somehow. We have to find a way out of this madness. And I have to talk to Deblar.”
“Yes, President.”
“And you, Mirna, stay here and try to find out everything you can about the composition and technology behind human weapons. We're counting on you.”
“Of course, President!” said Mirna proudly.
The President and Narhum left the medical ship and returned to communicate with the High Council, transmitting the latest information received. The medical officer Kurkma dismissed them with a simple gesture. He saw them both fly to the President's ship, and leave the medical ship. Then Kurkma turned to Mirna.
“Have you talked to Deblar?”
“Yes,” answered Mirna. “She's informed of everything.”
“Fine. You can leave now.”
“But...” Mirna replied. “I don't think we should hide this for another minute.
“What do you say?”
“I'm going to talk to the president. I can't take it anymore, Kurkma.”
“Don't do it. You mustn't do it.”
“Why? We need him.”
“Mirna, please,” begged Kurkma.
�
�I'm sorry, Kurkma. But that's what I have to do. I'm gonna talk to him. Bye-bye.”
Mirna made a gesture, ready to lift the flight. But, before he managed to rise, a gun, controlled by Kurkma, was fired, and the result was an impact on Mirna's chest, which fell dead at his feet.
“I'm so sorry, Mirna,” said Kurkma looking at the young engineer's body. “ I have also done what I had to do...”
The General
Doren was what humans would have defined as a military general within the LauKlars. An old LauKlar soldier with very limited experience. Military conflicts were scarce, and the power of the LauKlars was enormous. Any conflict could be resolved in a peaceful and orderly manner, but in the few cases where a certain military capability was required, the LauKlars could meet that requirement with complete satisfaction. Its advanced military technology was impressive enough in itself to prevent other civilizations from attempting any adventure. And the peaceful nature of the species had allowed the Galaxy to develop without serious incidents in a prolonged peace for at least the last four hundred thousand years, although peace was undoubtedly much more lasting, except for very specific and minor occasions.
Thus, when the old general received the news that a young pilot named Ronta had been killed on the original planet of the species, that another LauKlar had been abducted, and a week later, that several LauKlar ships, one of them the Neivaark, had quickly succumbed to the appearance of three strange black ships with three octagons encircling a cube drawn on its surface, he could not by any means betray his own. How was that possible? Where did these ships come from, what power did they have, and why had they destroyed their ships without provocation? What measures would be taken to prevent further attacks? And what was him going to say to the President, who was probably already waiting to hear his answer?