Sisterhood of Suns: Daughters of Eve

by Martin Schiller

  “Not a problem, Dana,” the woman replied. “We’re at a low point in processing right now. Bring your AI’s online.”

  Bel Hanna signaled to the units, and they immediately combined their power and began managing the ship’s many functions. Simultaneously, she took herself out of the loop.

  “Ready for the first transfer,” she announced. This would be a simple upload to one of the nearby storage drives.

  “Go ahead,” the tech told her.

  Bel Hanna initialized the sequence. In ten seconds, the program that she was using transferred all 20 raptobytes of the data that constituted her entire consciousness into its new receptacle; a ‘clean’ brain that had been genetically engineered to act as a host.

  She didn’t experience the process itself though. During the upload, she was functionally unconscious, and only came-to when it had concluded.

  After a nanosecond, she provided her status to the tech. “Transfer complete, Shirly. Feeling pretty good. All of me seems to be here. Getting ready for stage two.”

  Shirly checked her monitors, and acknowledged this. “Where to now, Dana?”

  “I’m going to transfer over to the drive in telemetry,” Bel Hanna answered with feigned casualness. “Haven’t been there in a while.”

  “Sounds good,” the unsuspecting tech agreed.

  Taking the virtual equivalent of a deep breath, Bel Hanna initiated the sequence again. Normally the second upload to the remote drive would signal the end of the drill. The idea was to practice moving herself to an undamaged portion of the ship in much the same manner that a physical crew would make for the lifeboats during a ship-wide emergency.

  Except that in her case, the drive, and not a lifeboat, was what would be ejected. This would give her the same chance of being rescued as everyone else. Despite the fact that she had been Translated, the Navy still considered her part of the ship’s compliment and just as worthy of saving.

  Bel Hanna had more in mind than merely completing the exercise however. “Beginning remote transfer,” she announced.

  Again, unconsciousness came, as she was sent on to her new location. Once there, she acted fast, knowing that she had only seconds before Shirly realized what was taking place. Using the storage drives interface, she linked herself with the Athena’s telemetry—and a transmission that was going on between the ship and Rixa Naval Headquarters. A Null gate had been opened by NavCom for this purpose, and the conversation was being sent straight through Nullspace to Rixa itself. Taking control of the transmission, she initiated the transfer, and sent it, and herself, out through space as a communications signal.

  The NavCom techs were the first to notice the problem. Right away, they contacted the Computer Core. “Hey, Dana just high-jacked our signal,” the senior ComTech protested. “What’s up, Shirly? That was our weekly status report!”

  Shirly had no idea. Dana bel Hanna certainly wasn’t prohibited from making transmissions of her own, and often did, but never during someone else’s call. Especially not one as important as this one. Rixa expected regular status reports and wouldn’t appreciate being overridden by the Athena’s personality matrix.

  “Dana?” she said aloud. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be reintegrating with the core, not sending out a Com. We were talking to Rixa!”

  When Bel Hanna didn’t answer, Shirly checked her status, and right away, the hair on the back of her neck began to rise. The matrix wasn’t just chatting with someone, she realized. She was gone.

  Swearing volubly, Shirly checked and then double checked, and finally, when she couldn’t deny the obvious, she made a call of her own. It was to the Senior Comp Tech, Lt. Vena bel Devora.

  “Ma’am?” she began, “I-I don’t know how to say this, but—I think that Bel Hanna just went AWOL. S-she’s gone, ma’am—she’s left the ship!”

  ***

  Katrinn was on the bridge when Lt. bel Devora, contacted her.

  “Commander?” Bel Devora said. “We have an emergency down in the Core.”

  A chill went down Katrinn’s spine as visions of the ill-fated USSNS Ishtar rose in her mind. Goddess, she thought, this is it! Bel Hanna finally went klaxxy.

  She kept her voice calm though. “What is it?” Bel Devora’s news caught her completely by surprise.

  “I’ll be down straightaway” she replied. She only paused to do one thing; she sent a priority message to Rixa.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  ***

  Concordia Spacelines flight 1106 had been chartered by the Navy to transport officers who were returning home, or reporting to Rixa for new duty assignments. The First Class section had been reserved exclusively for the rank of Captain and above, and with the exception of a pair of Lieutenant Commanders who had served together with the Sapphire Fleet, Lilith had the area all to herself. She welcomed the solitude, and the chance that it gave her to reflect.

  Leaving the Athena had been one of the hardest things she had ever done, but the life that she hoped to lead with Ingrit was just as daunting, if not more so. After the infatuation faded, and the true partnership began, couples learned if they were suited to one another. Some were, and others were not, and only time could reveal which it would be.

  Her first marriage, with Jan, had endured that transition. From the day they had spoken their vows to one another, and through all the privations and hardships that duty had imposed, they had never stopped loving one another. Then Jan had been taken away from her.

  Lilith, and Sarah, who had been only 10 years old at the time, had been there to see it. They had been standing together at the spaceport window, waving to the spacecraft as it ascended. Then, it had exploded.

  Of all the moments in her life, that single event was the one that she would have paid any price to have changed. It had scarred her down to her soul, and made any thought of remarriage an utter impossibility. With a universe as fickle and as cruel as that, the very idea of taking another chance, on anyone, had become completely out of the question. The possibilities were simply too terrible to make the gamble. It was better to be alone, and risk nothing.

  Ophida n’Marsi, the former Ship’s High Priestess, hadn’t lost hope though, and after many years of patient counseling, had finally found a way through Lilith’s defenses, convincing her that Jan would have wanted her to find someone else. And after a long inner struggle, she had reluctantly followed this advice, opened her heart again, and found Ingrit.

  Now, she was committing herself. There would be no going back once she reached Zommerlaand and asked Ingrit for her hand. From there, there would only be the future, and she found the prospect utterly terrifying.

  But as her faith constantly reminded its followers, there was no other road except the one that the Goddess laid out for mortals. Lilith was on that very road now, but she took comfort from the fact that she wouldn’t be facing the future alone. Come what might, Ingrit would be there with her, and in her own way, so would Jan.

  Letting out a ragged sigh at the sheer immensity of what she had committed herself to, she decided that she had worried herself enough. She needed a distraction. A little reading was definitely in order.

  Reaching into her carry-on bag, she searched through the books that she had brought with her. One of these was her copy of “A Thousand and One Nights”, given to her by Alex Rodraga, and she pointedly ignored it. She had brought it along with the intention of finally dredging up the strength to read it again.

  This was not that time though. She wasn’t ready to deal with the man’s ghost, or to look at the blood on her hands. Not with so much in front of her. She pushed it aside and fished out another book.

  This was a gift, from Katrinn. She had given it to her, right before she had left, and according to her former Second, “Guzamma: The Life of a Patriot and the Death of a Martyr” was becoming quite popular in the ETR. She had warned her that it was pure Loyalista propaganda and utter trash, but well worth the read if only to understand what fueled these extre
mist lunatics. The Zommerlaandar had also suggested, that if it failed as literature, it could double as an extremely effective doorstop. With such an effusive recommendation, Lilith had had no choice but to accept it. Now, it seemed just the thing.

  Ordering a glass of wine for herself, she took a sip, and opened the cover. What she saw made her laugh, and nearly sent most of her beverage right up her nose.

  It was an idealized portrait of Alfonza Guzamma, dressed in one of his ridiculous uniforms, complete with a half-cape and jeweled sword. He was depicted at least 22 kilograms lighter than he had been in life, and there was a fierce gleam in his eye, suggesting that he was looking into some glorious future--and not the disaster that his society had actually become.

  The image was so wildly overdone that she had to forcefully remind herself that it was not intended to lampoon him, but a serious homage to his memory. Painted by a fanatic of course, who knew nothing at all about the real man.

  Careful to drink a smaller amount, Lilith simply had to read on. The first lines of his life story proved to be just as absurd as his portrait. According to the author, he had been born in abject poverty, rather than being the son of a well-to-do family. It went on to detail a wholly fictitious childhood, depicting Guzamma as the very epitome of the noble youth, struggling against all odds to become a success. With powerful female figures standing in his way at every turn, naturally.

  In reality, he had been handed nearly every advantage with almost no effort on his part whatsoever. Even his appointment as Grand Admiral had been a political favor to his wealthy family. Merit had never even figured into the equation.

  The farce only grew in size and complexity from there. The book listed Guzamma at the very top of his class in the ETR’s Naval Officers Academy, and not 216th as his actual file said. Clearly, the author had not bothered to check this detail, Lilith mused.

  But the most colossal set of lies centered on his involvement with the Sisterhood during the ‘War for Humanity’. Both she and Admiral Da’Kayt were portrayed as petty, vengeful shrews, jealous of his purported genius. The writer had even had the unmitigated gall to suggest that the strategy behind the re-taking of Xapaan had been Guzamma’s idea alone! Then, and without so much as a jot of shame, they went on to boldly assert that the Hriss had been vanquished almost single-handedly by the man’s innate grasp of tactics. Had she not known better, she would have supposed him to be the Republic’s equivalent of Shana Legendre, if not even greater.

  Lilith did know better though, and she recalled those so-called ‘tactics’ quite well. Guzamma had been an utter fool.

  After this, she read about his death and supposed martyrdom--and nearly inhaled her wine a second time. Once again, history had been butchered without mercy. The author had reworked Guzamma’s final moments, claiming that he had died at the helm of his flagship fighting bravely against the evil ‘Sisterhood invaders’ to the very last.

  Rather than being shot in the head by one of his own men. She could still remember the shocked expression on his face, and the neat hole in his skull.

  No wonder the Loyalistas are such fanatics, she thought. Only zealots would ever believe such an obvious tissue of lies. As much as she loved books, this was the first one she had ever considered stuffing into a recycler. She didn’t surrender to the urge, however.

  Instead, she decided to keep it, and to pass it along to anyone who needed something absurd to brighten up their mood. That, or to take Kat’s suggestion, and use it as a doorstop in the new home that she planned to build with Ingrit. Either seemed satisfactory.

  Draining her glass, she put the book back into her bag and prepared to take a nap. As she drew the Opfgaveyr Quilt that Ingrit had made for her up to her chin, her psiever informed her that she still had another four hours before the transit would end. She set an alarm, and then saw that she had a message in her virtual inbox. It was marked ‘urgent’, and had come from Admiral ebed Cya.

  She sat up straight and opened it.

  “Lily, important news,” it read. “It’s NOTHING to panic over! The Athena’s personality matrix went offline, and is presumed AWOL. Your former ship and your crew are all fine. Backup systems are managing things and she is being towed back to Cingulum X Naval Shipyards for a replacement unit. Expect her there in two days, then four in spacedock for refitting and another two for trials before she returns to patrol.‘

  “DO NOT. REPEAT DO NOT CONTACT KATRINN!!! THAT IS A DIRECT ORDER--“MOMMY”--and also the heartfelt suggestion of a friend. Let her DO the job that she was picked BY YOU to do!’

  “Your orders: You are to continue to Zommerlaand, as previously instructed, and marry, your soonest. Best wishes, Ebed Cya.”

  Ebed Cya knew her far too well, she thought, wishing desperately to find some excuse to disobey and contact Katrinn anyway. Orders were orders though, and as her superior had aptly pointed out, Katrinn had been selected for the position.

  To interfere now, as much as she wanted to, would do the woman no credit. Katrinn Bertasdaater was the commander of the Athena now and she was fully capable of handling this emergency. Even so, she still made a note to herself to inquire with the Harbormistress of the shipyards, and receive regular progress reports on the refit. Ebed Cya hadn’t forbidden her from doing that.

  ***

  Bel Hanna returned to consciousness inside one of Rixa’s thousands of data storage drives. She didn’t pause to celebrate her successful escape however, and immediately pirated another outgoing signal. This one was headed into the Sisterhood, and specifically, Thermadon.

  Once again, she initiated her transfer sub-program and made the jump. By the time the ComTech on the Athena and Rixa had contacted one another and begun their search, she had already transferred herself several more times, finally ending up inside the truly massive servers of the great Encyclopedia Sororitas. Knowing that she was safe for the moment, she spread herself out among its multiple nodes, and waited.

  Claire d’Layne Naval Base, Nuvo Bolivar, Magdala Provensa, Esteral Terrana Rapabla 1048.08|05|02:91:73

  “Does anyone know what this is?” the Major asked. Ebed Karri was holding up an Armas Energetica 14. The AE-14 was currently the standard energy weapon issued out to ETR soldiers. Like the Mark-7 that the Sisterhood used, it was an energy rifle and fired charged bolts, using a battery pack to provide its power.

  “Yah,” a veteran from Team 440 said. “Ve zee zem all za time. Za Pubbies drop zem zo zey can run avay faster.”

  The room erupted in laughter--and Kaly immediately flashed the Specia soldiers an apologetic look, but they were laughing right along with everyone else. They knew just how poor their regular army performed when it came to fighting the Loyalistas.

  “Very funny, Huldasdaater,” the Major retorted. “That’s not where this came from. What you are looking at came right out of an ETR armory and wound up in the hands of the insurgents. We captured it on one of our raids. Anyone want to venture a guess as to why we didn’t know about this little toy until now?”

  This was a very good question. Like the Sisterhood, the ETR had tracking devices installed in all of its weapons. Although far more primitive than what the Sisterhood used to keep an eye on its inventory, the Republican system still managed to trace the whereabouts of its assets with reasonable efficiency.

  Until now.

  When no one spoke, the Major supplied the answer. “Unlike us, the ETR doesn’t believe in redundancy. Instead of implanting multiple tracking devices, they’ve only been putting their chips into the stocks. Some bright young Loyalista got the idea of simply removing that part and leaving it at the armory, with the help of some soldiers who were willing to look the other way. ‘

  “All they had to do after that was ship the weapons out, and fit them with new stocks somewhere else. When the armory ran its inventory program, it looked like all the weapons were accounted for. In fact, they were really out on the streets being fired at us.”

  She put the weapon down, and a disp
lay came up. It was a light manufacturing plant in the center of an industrial area. “We just found out where the parts factory is located. It’s a toy company that makes plastic products. Isn’t that sweet? Little Maria can have a dolly and a rifle for her birthday.”

  More laughter broke out and Kaly had to grudgingly award the Loyalistas points for their ingenuity, if nothing else. A company that worked in plastic, was the perfect set-up for such an operation.

  The Major continued. “Now, we could have simply tasked an airstrike to take out the factory, but there are innocent civilians working inside of it at all hours. So, we have to go in and do it the old-fashioned way.’

  “Your mission will be just what you’ve all been waiting for. A ‘rush and zap job’. You’re going to go in there to hurt the right people and break the right things, and also gather up any intel while you’re at it. Notice by the way, that I said ‘right’.I don’t want any friendlies killed. Now, let’s discuss the specifics.”

  The site map reappeared on the large holojector in the center of the room. Everyone rose and took their places around it.

  Jugentiya Novedadaa, S.A., Nuvo Bolivar, Magdala Provensa, Esteral Teranna Rapabla 1048.08|06|01:45:73

  The sound of laughter and the smell of cigarette smoke reached Kaly’s senses at the same time. She grinned, knowing what this meant. So did Vasquaaz, who was lying next to her, watching the loading dock with a pair of field glasses. The two sentries, armed with weapons that had been confirmed as military issue AE-14’s, were standing together in the bright glare of the factory lights. They obviously felt safe enough to take a smoke break.