by Damon Alan
It was more and more apparent the gods were taking care of him.
Eislen’s eyes were opening, and he embraced this new contract with the mighty powers above him. He would accept their care, and in return Eislen would save the people the gods wanted him to save.
The common man.
The ship shuddered as it planted itself deeper into gravelly sand.
“We’re aground,” the Captain bellowed. “Grab your things, and over the side.”
Men scrambled to rescue possessions they wanted to take with them on land.
Rope, bota bags, stone knives, clothing.
One by one, satisfied with their allotment, men slipped over the side of the ship and climbed down a net used as a ladder. They made a chain in the water to pull to shore those who could not swim.
The captain questioned the wisdom of carrying the basket with the firearms in it, but Eislen would not leave it behind. The newcomer devices were his secret weapon, and the less anyone outside of himself, Salla, and Elvanik knew, the better.
A short while later they rested on the beach, basking in the heat of Faroo and Jalai.
Eislen studied the group. Two men were too wounded to travel. They’d be left on the beach with food and a bow. They were well enough for short stints to hunt, but not for all day movement.
Left with enough provisions to be well provided for while they healed, they’d be safe high on the beach away from the raging sea. Once both were well, they had orders to follow the group east.
Another injury concerned Eislen more, Elvanik was still limping from an injury sustained when the mast broke. But, with aid, he could travel.
Eislen appointed a man to assist his friend, agreeing that in return the man’s provisions and possessions would travel between Eislen and Salla in the firestick basket.
“I thought you would leave me as well,” Elvanik commented.
“No, you are too important,” Eislen replied. “And Salla’s friend.”
“And you’ve grown fond of me.”
Eislen laughed. “I have. You are not afraid to speak truth when truth is not popular.” Eislen tossed a piece of dried beast to his friend. “And you do so every chance you get.”
“You must have missed that at sea, with me below deck,” Elvanik said.
“As much as any old man would miss his harridan.”
The men on the beach began to show signs of life. Instead of just laying on their backs, they chatted and looked through their goods. Eislen ended the rest as he stood from the sand. “Get up. We have many thousands of steps ahead of us. Each one brings us closer to ruling our own destiny.” He extended a hand to help the captain from the sands, and looked him in the eye. “So let’s start.”
The sea cliffs were lower here, and broken. Ravines cut from the plateau above down to open water, most had rivulets of fresh water running in them.
It wasn’t long before they were standing on grass plains, eying forest on the distant east horizon.
“We make that forest line by the end of second night,” Eislen said to his men. “We will stop when the gods say. We will rest when the gods say. Their benevolent hands guide us now.”
Salla looked at him reverently. Maybe she sensed the powerful changes that were coming. Maybe she sensed that Eislen was the fulcrum that would sustain the weight of that change.
Eislen clasped her and pulled her close. “It is Faroo you should think of so. I am but a tool.”
“You are more than that,” she answered.
“I will not embarrass you with a low response,” he said, grinning.
She flushed. “Eislen, you’re still but a boy in that head of yours.”
“But you’re in love with me,” he replied. “You will follow me anywhere.”
“Follow you?” she asked. “I will do more than that. I will marry you.”
Confusion flustered him for a moment. “I don’t remember asking you to marry me.”
“Asking?” she replied laughing. “Who said anything about asking?”
Inside his heart soared, but that didn’t lessen his confusion. They were following the old ways, or so Eislen thought. It was his duty to ask her to grace him for life. Apparently she didn’t agree with that particular tradition.
She placed her finger on his lips as he started to speak. “Eislen, you fool. You think you’re going to choose your own destiny? The gods will guide you, and open your eyes. They guided you to me.”
She turned and strutted away from him.
He stared at her figure as she bent over to pick up the basket of weapons. She certainly filled him with the energy of life.
Elvanik laughed behind him. “How can a man who sees so much know so little?”
Eislen gasped as he realized the truth of it. The gods had presented him Salla just as they had saved him from Zeffult.
“I am stupid…” he whispered to the wind. He ran over to her, then knelt on the damp earth.
“Salla of Kampana, daughter of Ebol and Chari, will you marry me?”
“I thought I already settled this,” she said in broken words as she kissed him.
Chapter 36 - The New Thing
32 MAI 15329
Peter stared at Emille’s helmeted head as she described the contents of the locker behind him. In detail, down to the atomic level.
It had taken him a month to introduce her to the elements, providing pure samples of each for her to study. Some in containment, of course, but the methodologies he’d used to keep the elements safe hadn’t rendered her perception of them invalid.
Now she was able to identify compounds, and was becoming familiar with the structure of organic chemistry.
Despite Alarin’s assurance of her genius, Peter was surprised by the speed with which she learned. It probably didn’t hurt that she was able to understand chemistry with the touch of her gift as Peter would understand texture with the touch of his hand.
Peter felt that he was developing a relationship with her independent of Alarin as well. She’s been polite since whatever it was that transpired between the two adepts in their quarters a month ago. Most of that exchange, Peter was sure, he wasn’t able to see or detect in any way.
Not that it mattered. Results mattered. And Emille was giving Peter results regarding the sixth sense she possessed that Alarin had been previously unable to. It didn’t hurt that it took her about a week to pick up a functional level of Galactic Standard as well.
Her IQ was probably off any chart that had ever been built.
“Carbon, Peter Corriea, always carbon. It seems to be the key to all things living, yes?”
Her voice carried some of the mischief it had when she’d caused Peter’s mashed potatoes to catch on fire in the galley three weeks ago.
“Certainly, Adept Emille, but why do you mention the obvious?”
After the flaming spuds incident Alarin had explained to Peter that she was bored. She had to be challenged more with Peter’s teaching, or she’d be trouble. On Nula Armana she’d had her social duties to keep her mind focused. Here there was only her new relationship with Alarin and her education under Peter’s tutoring.
Alarin was both her betrothed and her Adept Master now, but even he couldn’t control her. Only temper her and point her in the right direction.
She smiled at Peter, one expressive of her wandering thoughts. “Because it is a… what do you call it, vulnerability.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. The last thing he wanted was for Emille to go Merik on him. He swallowed uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if I changed the nature of carbon so that it didn’t function as the catalyst of life?”
Peter felt the room sway a bit. He grabbed the edge of a nearby table to stabilize himself. “Nobody ever mentioned anything like that to me. Not even Alarin. How would that work?”
She was clearly amused by his discomfort. “Because nobody has ever seen the things I’ve seen before, instructor.” She tilted her head at him. �
�Under your tutelage I am looking deeper at the materials of the universe than any adept ever has. I’m discovering things that no adept, or for that matter, human, has ever known.”
He was afraid to ask. But did anyway.
“What kind of things?”
His voice must have given away his concerns, because she laughed.
“Don’t worry, I am not about to follow in my benefactor’s footsteps. Merik’s, I mean. Not Alarin. I would do well to follow in his.”
That was a bit of relief. “What kind of things?”
“Peter Corriea, you’ve shown me more than anyone ever has, even my father. Because of you I know where to look for the truths I am learning. You have been my guide. I want you at ease, and I know why Master Alarin, the premier of all adepts, calls you friend and you call him by one name. I would like you to call me Emille.”
“I’d be honored, Emille,” Peter replied. “Call me Peter.”
“In the last month you have shown me your science. How your society has built these amazing wonders,” she gestured around the room, “and now I will show you things that none before you have seen, Peter. You, me, and Alarin will herald a new age of humanity in the universe.”
She certainly had big plans. Now to see if she really was seeing things that would back up such a claim.
“You still haven’t told me what you’ve discovered… the knowledge I’ve led you to.”
“This, Peter. This.”
She looked at a cup on the table Peter was holding and closed her eyes. The table trembled for a moment, then the cup fell into a small ring of dust sitting on the table.
Peter gasped. This was new.
“The individual elements of this cup are now mixed on the table, no longer bonded,” she commented.
New. Definitely new.
“I’m not done,” she said.
Her eyes still closed, a second cup slid across the table toward her, then vanished.
Peter swiped at the empty space.
“Where is it?”
Alarms sounded. Artificial gravity faded away as the habitation ring of the Palino stopped rotating. Standard emergency procedure.
The ship’s intercom blared to life. “All midships fire and medical crews to the habitation ring galley. There has been an explosion.”
Emille’s face grew concerned. “What’s happening?”
Peter grabbed her by the arms and rotated her to face him. “What did you do with that cup?”
“I changed its location. I moved it to the galley.”
He didn’t know how she did it or why that would cause an explosion, but the two were related.
She cried out, “Peter!”
Tears flowed.
“It’s Alarin’s! I sent it to where he is,” she wailed.
“Oh no,” Peter grunted as he pushed off the bulkhead toward the hatch.
Chapter 37 - House Call
32 MAI 15329
Thea’s ground shuttle drove past dormant construction projects. The city had about a third of the completed apartments it needed, and no more were being built.
Because of this Orson fellow.
Murderer.
She was tired of death, she’d seen it for the majority of her life. Even after arriving here, in Oasis, the Seventh Fleet had encountered death. After Merik’s demise she’d thought it all over.
But the ancient scourge of man trying to harm man had returned yet again, and this time from within the fleet itself.
In the lagoon a platform rose from the water, new construction the engineers were proud of. A platform designed for anti-ballistic missile defense. Multiple sensor dishes sat on the roofs of buildings, and launcher units sat at the corners ready to go.
The busy engineers were already off to the next platform, even as this one was being made operational by newly assigned defense crews.
Thea sighed. She had ordered the construction crews to return to building the defensive systems. Orson’s attack motivated the construction crews like she’d never been able to. Too bad it was for this ugliness instead of housing.
She arrived at her office and walked through the door. She heard the electric ground shuttle whisper off behind her, going to pick up its next patron.
“Greetings, Doctor,” AI Terrance said as the front door opened.
“Hello,” she said as she walked past three assistants in the front. They all greeted her with smiles.
Once inside her examination room, she plopped down on the procedure bench and lay back.
What she wanted was to take a quick nap, but there was never time for that.
She looked at the clock on the wall. Patients would be arriving in about ten minutes.
A vacation. That was what she needed.
“Incoming call, Lieutenant Commander Peter Corriea, Medical Emergency,” AI Terrance said.
“Put it though,” Thea said. The line clicked open and she waited for Peter to speak as was protocol on long distance calls with light-speed lag.
“Doctor? Peter Corriea. Alarin’s been hurt on the Palino. An accident involving the adepts’ abilities. I’m sending you the chart from ship medical now.”
“Displaying chart data,” Terrance said.
“Peter, Thea Jannis. I have it, reviewing... stand by.”
She looked over the medical information and had to read the injury twice. Porcelain under the skin? Flash burn? Torn facial muscles and lacerated eyes completed the list of damages. She waved her hand in the air and a holographic multilayer display of Alarin’s head appeared.
Wow. He was messed up. The skull was intact, however, which meant the brain was probably fine. He would, however, barring her intervention, be blind.
Thea looked at her supply cooler. Inside were nanites in liquid suspension that would rebuild Alarin’s face to original form. The problem was she was desperately low on supply, with no way to manufacture more of the microscopic machines.
It didn’t matter. This was Alarin.
“Peter, I have the results. You were wise to contact me. I am gathering the things I will need to help and I’ll be on the next shuttle I can get to the Palino.”
Several seconds passed. “Good news, Doctor. I’ve ordered the ground base at Jerna to release a shuttle for your use. I’ll meet you when you arrive here. Lieutenant Commander Corriea out.”
“Link severed,” Terrance announced.
“Contact the Fyurigan and tell them I want one of their doctors down here to fill in for me,” Thea ordered. “After that cancel all appointments on a daily basis until my replacement arrives.” She paused and tapped her chin. “Also have ground transport send a car to pick me up in thirty minutes.”
“In process,” the AI answered.
“Oh, and Terrance, contact the shuttle pad. Tell them to have the engines on that shuttle warm and ready to go.”
“In process.”
Thea opened the door to the cooler and prepared a package for the trip. She slipped a bag of reconstruction nanites into a portable refrigeration unit.
A dwindling pile of the bags rested on the shelf. When those were gone, incidents like this would require old-fashioned reconstructive surgery. And she wasn’t sure how many doctors in the fleet could actually do that sort of thing. It was barbaric, but it had been the norm for thousands of years until nanites had been perfected for the task.
“I have completed your orders successfully,” Terrance informed her.
She didn’t bother to answer, lost in thought.
Soon she would have to start a med school.
As if she didn’t have a thousand things to do already.
“Incoming message,” Terrance said.
“Let me see it.”
It was a holo recording. A three dimensional display of a ship battle. Narration started almost immediately.
“This is Commander Heinrich of the Schein. A few days ago this ship engaged the Hinden in a close quarters battle. The battle was short, intense, and decisive. As you can see, the Hinden
broke apart and was destroyed shortly after the battle began.”
The holo ran for a bit, showing precisely what Heinrich narrated.
“You know the truth of this, as you are no longer in contact with the Hinden. As the sole remaining capital warship in the system, we are now an irresistible force. You will comply with our demands. If you do so, we will leave this system and no further damage will be done to the Seventh Fleet or to Refuge. Failure to comply will result in us hunting down and destroying the remainder of your forces. Make your decision, and make it fast. Attached to this file you will find a list of demands. Follow it to the letter, or we will once again be enemies.”
The holograph changed, now the visage of Commander Heinrich stared at Thea.
“If you test us, you will die.”
The holo winked out, and Thea stared at the now blank space where it had been. If Sarah was dead, she was now the Fleet Captain.
She didn’t want that.
“The ground car is here to take you to the shuttle,” Terrance said.
Thea shook her head and looked up at the AI’s camera. “Right.” She stood up and composed her uniform. “Copy that holograph to my personal datapad, including the attached list of demands.”
“Done,” Terrance answered.
Thea left the building and boarded the ground car. There was still Alarin to attend to. She’d need him to help her save what was left of her people.
Chapter 38 - Abandon Ship
35 MAI 15329
He’d gone eleven years without the Fleet Captain knowing, or probably even saying his name.
He’d done nothing remarkable. His performance reviews were always somewhere between satisfactory and exceptional. He had no disciplinary actions against him, and little reason he’d be noticed.
His name was Nartek Schavinski.
And in the last day he’d disobeyed his first order. And his second through seventh. But he would not leave his ship to die.
Eleven years had to mean something. He loved this old guy just as much as Captain Dayson did. She would understand, she had to. Maybe she’d speak at his funeral if he failed. Or court martial him posthumously. Either way, he was going to do the right thing.