* * * * *
High above the Celestian planets, now aboard the smaller attached spaceship Sesylendae, Alessia and her crew watched as the fighting continued, waiting helplessly for the electromagnetic field to charge. There was no one trained to fly the Valerian space fighters in Tiasenne’s defense. Alessia briefly considered telepathically implanting the skills into a number of the young people on board—but immediately realized that it wouldn’t do much to save anyone.
Alessia abruptly left the crew for a moment and went into the adjoining room; it was time to act. As she entered, the computer outlet in that room greeted her in a voice that she knew from Selesta.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Alessia, we must go now, while Sargon is distracted,” it said urgently, delivering what sounded like an ultimatum in the dark, masculine voice.
“No—why would I take the ship away now in the middle of a battle?” Alessia protested. “I’m not leaving. I’m going back to Selesta in a moment. The others can survive on Sesylendae until I return, and there are enough supplies on board the Sesylendae to rebuild the planet Tiasenne, even without my help, if we should be separated. And you—I expect you to transfer entirely to this ship and see to the reconstruction. I’m entrusting you with the responsibility of the crew’s survival.”
“Oh? And what are you going to do?”
“I have other plans. I don’t know exactly yet, but I may even try to relocate the Orians to another star system if they would follow me. And assist the citizens who got left behind on Orian somehow...”
“You’re mistaken, Alessia, if you think I can leave Selesta. The ship is your home and mine, as much as Seynorynael ever was, but I must take it to Kiel3 with or without you.”
“What?” This response came as a shock. “You wouldn’t leave me here. You can’t.”
“But I can’t allow Sargon to trick you into relinquishing Selesta, and I can’t allow you to go somewhere else with a handful or even billions of refugees on board this ship. We haven’t come this far to allow another Emperor to threaten our future. If Sargon captures Selesta and searches for the singularity, if he claims its power for himself—”
“He doesn’t care about the Enorian singularity,” Alessia protested. “He only wants Selesta.”
The computer kept silent a moment, as though hesitating to disagree.
“Perhaps, but he would use the ship for himself, and we would never then go to fulfill what we have sworn to do. And remember that Sargon doesn’t know about Selerael’s existence yet.”
“I don’t understand your point.”
“Can’t you see? There’s only one way you can protect her from him. Her blood shows no signs of the serum, no trace of post-metamorphosis cells. She is mortal, and you know it.”
“She might not be entirely human. There are abnormal lyra-chloroplasts in her cells. Dormant, but—”
“Would you be willing to risk Selerael’s life in Sargon’s hands? He might try to kill her on an irrational whim. Or risk him destroying Selesta somehow if he attempts to take over while you are in flight to another system—”
“He couldn’t.” She disagreed, but she sounded uncertain.
“He might try to destroy us. He can’t kill you of course, but how much damage can he do to our cause with his interference? Who knows what kinds of weapons he’s been developing to use against us all of these years? He is an immortal now, and to be feared. And then, if he does destroy the ship, Selerael and I will die. Your energy will remain, formless for a short while, and then you will be re-born as Lierva once was. Alessia, you will be alone. And with no way of returning to civilization. Eiron—is probably already dead, and in your heart you know it.”
“I—I’m not going to let anyone have Selesta.” She protested, with a note of iron will he had never heard before. “If necessary, I’ll destroy it.”
“You aren’t going to destroy Selesta.” He said.
“Why not? If I have to, I’ll take Sargon with me the only way possible. Ram into his ship and destroy them both. You can take Sesylendae once the inhabitants are safe on the planet and try to make the journey to Kiel3 yourself.”
“You know Sesylendae can never make it there now, with all of the closed and collapsed centipede gates. It’s too many years away otherwise, halfway across the damned universe!” The computer said. “And do you think you can choose to end your own life, as Hinev did? Hinev was nearly immortal, but he hadn’t perfected the serum yet when he gave himself the injections. Face the truth, Alessia! You can’t kill Sargon any more than you can kill yourself. You’ll end up stuck here with nothing, and this mess isn’t worth it! Get away with me now.”
“I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m tired of fighting. Tired of running.”
“You would abandon your child to this nightmare? What if I can’t protect her until you return? What if she ends up killed? You can’t expect anything right to come of what you’re doing.”
“What else can I do? I made a vow to save the lives of my people, and I shall.”
“Stop fooling yourself, you fool! You can’t destroy the ship and all the people of Orian. You can’t abandon Selerael, and if you’d only listen to me, you wouldn’t have to. We are the only beings who can prevent Emperor Marankeil’s escape into the future—we must ensure the Council’s demise so that the entire universe isn’t enslaved forever to an evil dictator! Remember you took a solemn vow to ensure his destruction—how can you stop now?” he broke off only a moment, recalling the day long ago when he had seen Alessia in the Seynorynaelian Arboretum and had known her secret destiny. Would she recognize his words? Would she now know who he was?
“I grant you, if you destroy Selesta, perhaps this future will endure, perhaps these people will survive.” The computer continued. “Perhaps this would create a new future outside our Empire—outside the time-loop that you know already exists in our past, and you might escape your destiny. But Alessia, you can’t alter what was meant to be, or there will be repercussions upon us all—”
“If that’s true, if I am bound by my fate, then whatever I decide will be the right choice. I’m alive now. So—whatever I have chosen now will be the right action. The universe is not going to end simply because I change my mind. It’s odd, though.” She said, with a little laugh.
“What?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in fate, Ornenkai.”
She knew?! She knew who he was?! The computer was silent. How long had she known?!
“How did you find out?” Ornenkai said, very quietly.
“You aren’t denying that you really are Ornenkai?” She laughed in disbelief.
“No.”
“How did I find out,” she echoed. “I remembered a dream I had a long time ago, a dream I thought was just a fabrication of my own imagination, the dream I had just before we left Seynorynael for the last time.”
“The day I transferred my mind and soul and memories entirely into Selesta.”
“Yes. I never saw what you were doing in that dream, but I finally figured it out. You gave your identity away over time, piece by piece, only I never could believe my suspicions. I suppose I thought it was impossible for you to sacrifice all that you had on Seynorynael to come with us—”
“I had nothing on Seynorynael but eternal emptiness.”
“But you were the Vice-Emperor. And I never thought you would actually transfer your existence into the Selesta. To become the ship, a living vessel of power, with no free will....”
“I was a mechanized unit long enough to figure out how my own mechanical functions operated—enough to figure out how to transfer my mind force and memories. Enough talk. I had my reasons for making the sacrifice.”
“I don’t believe all your talk about time-loops, Ornenkai, not anymore.” Alessia said, shaking her head. “If there had been a way to return to the past, we explorers would have found it when we first visited Kiel3. Why believe in nonsense? There is really only one w
ay to be sure that Marankeil’s Empire dies forever, whether or not he himself comes to reclaim Selesta, or another new Emperor takes his place.”
“What is that?”
“Destroy Selesta, as I said. And hope that no other ship of the Imperial Grand Fleet remains.”
“You love this ship too much to do that.”
“I love my child and the people of this world more, and it is my duty to protect them and let them live in peace.”
“Why do you insist on absolute foolishness?”
“Because. If I destroy the ship, even the circle, the time-loop you speak of will be broken, if it ever really existed. As for Selerael, she is safe with the Tiasennians. If we truly break the circle, she and everyone here would escape into the tangent future we create. I believe that, and not what you said about necessary actions and the ultimate destiny of our people. You aren’t infallible, Ornenkai. When you told us all that nonsense in our moment of grief, just after our world died, you were speaking of legend, not truth. The only truth is the living flesh of these our people, and my vow to assist and protect them.”
“If I could make you remember what you should never have forgotten, you wouldn’t do this.” He warned.
“Since you can’t, I’ll just have to follow my own judgment. You gave up your life to try to make amends, I see that, and I appreciate the sacrifice you made, but it has nothing to do with me and my decisions.”
“As much as you protest ignorance, Alessia, I know you will come to believe in the time-loop!” The voice shrilled, as close to a shout as the computer could come. In it was a note of confusion, as though he really did have reason to believe what he was saying, as though he had not consciously deceived her.
“Oh, and how do you know that?”
“I know.” He said. “You are a part of it.” I know it. You were there!, when I was a youth. You had already come to the past to set me on a path towards my soul’s redemption.
She sighed, making light of his frustration.
“Tell me,” Ornenkai said, “would you be content to let our civilization vanish?”
“What are you saying?”
“You know that they are part-Seynorynaelian, all of them, these Celestian peoples. Are you willing to change fate? Don’t you understand the consequences of doing that? What about Selerael? The Council may have found a way to escape into some other future somehow, as the Enorians once did, perhaps even through the centipede gates. They may have another plan to ensure their existence, to corrupt another universe, and the rest of us will cease to exist in this one. Everything will just cease to exist.”
After all that I have endured for you, Alessia, I will not allow you to destroy my plans, he thought.
“Everything does, Ornenkai, in the end. This is my decision and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Alessia said after a moment. “There—you see? We’re both still alive.” She said in a mocking voice. “We haven’t vanished all of a sudden. So, my decision changed nothing. You know I can destroy the ship with my power, and I fully intend to. You can transfer your soul to the Sesylendae and survive there, Selerael will live, and I’ll escape. I’ll deal with Sargon however I can. There—you see? I knew you were wrong. I knew there was no such thing as a time-loop or certain destinies, aberrant paths in time. If there were, I would have gone back and saved the other Immortals if I could. I wouldn’t have had to watch the others die! I wouldn’t be here—”
“And then Selerael wouldn’t have been here, either.”
“Yes.” She admitted.
“I see—you can’t believe in the time-loop, can you? Or else you’d have to choose between saving Kiel and the existence of your own child. But your logic doesn’t follow. The time-loop can’t be controlled or guided by anyone—anyone except the One. And no one can use it for their own purposes. Time and Space won’t let you—They are vengeful to those who try to change their own fate—”
“And if, as you believe, I am ‘the One’, then either I end up guarding the past, changing it and damning us all, or else I might obliterate us all out of existence.”
“I don’t know. There might be another alternative, but we can only discover it when we find the Enorian singularity.”
“Enough, Ornenkai. Your words won’t change my mind.”
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 86