by Barry Kirwan
They were the first words he’d heard from her since rescuing her from Toran’s ship. The first smile in his direction he’d seen in nearly two decades. He almost lost his thread.
“Actually, a triple. The Nchkani were defeated – that is, annihilated – at the battle that destroyed the Tla Beth homeworld. Other species who were wavering are now falling behind Hellera.”
“So,” Petra said, “are you saying we’re winning this war?”
He turned back to the holo, and clicked his fingers again. A black gash appeared at the edge of the galaxy.
“Not yet. Jen?”
Jen stood and walked inside the holo. “Qorall is still here,” she said, standing on tip-toes, just reaching the gash with her forefinger. “Hellera fears he has a doomsday weapon, one that could destroy this entire galaxy.”
“He goes down, so do we?” Sandy asked.
“More like he goes, and we go down,” Jen said. “He’s remained at the edge of the galaxy for a reason.”
“What about the Machines?” Sandy countered.
“Hellera feels if they approach, Qorall will cut and run. Her hope is that they leave the galaxy, along with whatever’s left of Pierre.” Jen re-took her seat.
Micah glanced at Kat, saw her lips tighten. But Petra remained stern. Her Genner emotional control no doubt came in handy, or perhaps her ability to see the larger picture.
“So,” Sandy interjected, “Hellera and Qorall slug it out while we all wait either to cheer or weep?”
Micah shook his head. “No. Xenic will be leading his people and a growing armada to fight on Hellera’s side, races all the way from Level Five to the Rangers, Level Fifteen, alongside the few remaining Tla Beth. The ultimate battle will be between Hellera and Qorall, but Qorall still has some species on his side.”
“Those races will be defeated.” Xenic was on his feet. “The Mannekhi, the Wagramanians, the Zlarasi and other restored races will make sure of that. Micah, I must leave. My new ship is calling. But first I need an answer.”
“Ah yes,” Micah said, and faced Petra. “A number of Mannekhi wish to come here, as protectors. They believe we are the descendants of a long lost Mannekhi tribe. They would be quite upset if anything happened to us.”
Kat turned to her daughter and whispered something Micah couldn’t catch.
Petra’s eyes widened, then she cleared her throat. “How many are we talking about?”
Xenic answered. “We propose a mere ten thousand to begin with.”
Antonia’s mouth dropped open. “But we don’t have the infrastructure, the food, the –”
Xenic raised his hand. “We will bring city crystals.”
They all stared at him, uncomprehending. Micah’s resident elaborated, and he filled them in. “They can fabricate – that is grow – cities in a matter of weeks, with everything from power cells to sewage treatment.”
Antonia was about to speak again but Petra shook her head. She stared first at Micah, then back at Xenic. “Two thousand to begin with. That’s one tenth of our population. We’ll see how it goes from there.”
“Acceptable,” Xenic said, a smile stretching across his face; Micah had never seen him smile.
“They will be here tomorrow,” Xenic said, then departed, the sound of his boots echoing after him.
Petra waited till he was gone. “Crystal cities, eh, Micah? Trying to do Antonia out of a job?”
Antonia smiled at him too, then looked away as if remembering something. Micah wondered what was going on. But that was for later. He cleared his throat. “Our part isn’t over yet, I’m afraid. Sandy?”
She looked surprised, glared at him, then gathered herself. “Toran told me… Micah, why don’t you tell it?”
Petra addressed her. “Sandy, why not address me? Or Gabriel?”
Sandy’s eyes flicked to the reborn Youngblood, then back to Petra. “Louise is going to try and enlist the Q’Roth to fight for Qorall’s side, with the promise of the spoils of war.”
“But haven’t they been fighting for the Kalarash all this time, on Hellera’s side?”
Sandy stayed quiet.
Gabriel broke the silence. “Hellera downloaded a good deal of Grid politics into my brain; she said it would come in useful, and that there was room, given so many holes in my memory.”
Micah noticed Sandy staring at him. So he’d heard, the two had said little to each other, although she had been the real Gabriel’s mother. She watched him intently, no doubt searching for her son. But studying her, he realised it was the reverse – she wanted to convince herself this was not her son. And yet the way he looked at Sandy, he clearly had memories of her, fond ones.
Gabriel continued. “The Q’Roth were altered by the Tla Beth to become dogs of war. Their allegiance has never been one of choice, and in the past eighteen years they have lost billions of warriors in battles with Qorall, nearly ninety per cent of their population dead. No other species has willingly sacrificed so much in the war effort.” He stared at the floor, as if viewing the memories there, or making sense of the stored information.
Petra was hanging on every word. “Please, Gabriel, continue.”
He looked at her for a moment, then spoke. “In fact, the whole of Grid Society is rather feudal. It has not been a particularly happy society, even though it has endured ten million years.”
Sandy cut in, her voice taut. “Is that Hellera speaking or you?”
Micah realised these two women had opposing feelings for this clone. He judged it best to stay out of it.
“Both, moth –” Gabriel stopped himself. “It is my assessment, but I believe both Kalaran and Hellera had already begun to see the flaw in what they fostered here.”
Micah decided to end this. “Louise has to be stopped,” he said. “Once and for all. The Q’Roth are still legion in number. And if, as Toran said, they gain some of the Nchkani technology and arsenal, who knows how much damage they could do. We have to go to the Q’Roth homeworld. Louise is probably there by now.” He expected objections, shock, or something, but Petra took it in her stride.
“When are you leaving, and who are you taking?”
Micah was caught off guard; he hadn’t exactly planned it yet. “Tomorrow,” he said.
“A small crew. Volunteers.”
“Count me out,” Jen said, rising from her seat. “I’m going to join Hellera. She’s asked me to handle what’s left of Darkur’s ship.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why, I’m sure others would be better at it than me. But she’s asked, and I owe it to Kalaran. Ukrull is in orbit. I don’t do goodbyes.”
With that, she faded from view and was gone.
Micah had never gotten used to whisking, though he wished Shiva had the capability to teleport.
Aramisk stood, silent until now. “Xenic has asked me to stay, to liaise with the incoming Mannekhi.” She sat down again.
Micah noticed Antonia glare at Aramisk, while Kat studied the floor.
Gabriel stood, and was about to speak.
“You’re staying here,” Petra stated flatly.
Micah, along with all the others, stared at their President. Her face was stone. He realised he hadn’t really talked to her since getting back.
“The Youngbloods need you here,” she added. “They’ve lost so much, first you, I mean the other Gabriel, then Brandt…”
“I should go with Micah,” Gabriel answered, utterly calm. “Who else here can fight a Q’Roth warrior, or even this Louise I have heard so much about. I believe Hellera fashioned me for this.”
Micah was torn. Of all the people present, he needed Gabriel most. But Petra looked ready to crack.
She spoke slowly, with precision. “I… need… ”
“I’ll make sure he comes back, Petra,” Sandy said.
Petra swallowed, puffed out her chest. “And how will you do that, Sandy?”
“I’m going along.” Sandy looked at Micah, held his gaze. “Besides, somebody needs to make sure Micah pulls the tr
igger on Louise this time.”
The Ossyrian, Vashta, also stood up and volunteered. Petra said nothing more, as Micah steered the meeting to a close. At last he and Petra were the only two in the room. She still sat in her Presidential chair. He approached.
“Micah, promise you’ll bring him back.”
“Of course,” he said, knowing, as he knew she did too, that the likelihood was that all four of them were as good as dead.
“I mean it, Micah, if he doesn’t come back I’ll never forgive you.”
“Petra –”
She got off her chair, and stood right in front of him, shouting. “You could have intervened, told him to stay here, he would have listened to you. I lost my Gabriel two months ago…” She turned away from him, and spoke in a quieter voice. “Don’t come back without him. Promise me.”
That was a promise he could keep. “I promise, Petra.”
She walked away, leaving him alone in the chamber. He sat back in his chair, and again recalled the faces of former council members, and then added those of Zack and Vince, whose counsel he could really use right now, but there was only him and an empty room.
He realised that he and Vince had something in common, despite having totally opposing personalities: Vince had been decisive, a man of action, and ruthless to boot, cutting through all the emotional bullshit as Vince would have called it, to what mattered. Vince always got the job done, including killing Louise twice. Vince apparently had had a long affair with Louise, before the fall of Earth, and had slept once with Sandy on Esperia, the night before he’d been killed. Micah, by comparison, had had one disastrous fling with Louise, but had longed for Sandy for years, his realisation that she was the one he wanted gaining strength as time passed rather than weakening, despite her complete avoidance of him. He idly wondered why she’d never had more children with Ramires. Then he chastened himself; she was still in mourning, and one brief smile in his direction didn’t mean anything. Besides, soon he would need to face down Louise again, finish the job this time, and almost certainly die on the Q’Roth homeworld. Vince would have told him to quit dreaming and get to it. Good advice. He got up and left the chamber.
Having made his preparations, Micah knew there was one last affair to be put in order. He wanted to know what was going on with Antonia. Feeling a tad idiotic, he picked some wild flowers he knew she liked, and marched over to her place as evening began to fall. Kat would be there too; all the better, he wanted to make it clear that ‘it’ was all behind them, his one night stand with Antonia before Kat had reappeared, and before Sandy had resurfaced. Approaching from the side of her small house, he heard raised voices. He slowed down, and though he knew it was wrong, stood by the exterior wall next to the open window so he could hear.
“You should have told him, Antonia. Part of me can’t believe I’m saying this, but he deserves to know.”
“He’s about to go off to battle. It… It will undo him, Katrina.”
Listening, his back against the wall, he mined the facts from the conversation. He slumped down until he was sitting on the ground, the flowers hanging limp from his loosened grasp. She’d been pregnant by him, until the battle on Savange. A son. Micah would have been a father. He’d given up the idea of having children a long time ago, but now, to have come so close and then have it ripped away from him... All sorts of images arose of how life could have been different, raising a son… Antonia was crying. He desperately wanted to comfort her, to share in her grief. But she’d chosen not to tell him, and she was back with Kat. He would get in the way, complicate matters. It would be best if he went off to the battle and never…
Quietly, he got up, taking the flowers with him, and stole into the night.
When he arrived at Silent Hill, the remnant of the moon that had been broken up during Sister Esma’s attack on Esperia cast a pale light over the graveyard. Earlier he’d found two flat pieces of wood and nailed them together, the best he could do at short notice, and planted it in the ground near the fresh graves of Blake and Kilaney. He’d lasered onto the crosswise piece ‘To the unknown soldier”, so no one would know, and laid the flowers before it. He found he couldn’t think straight until he gave the unborn soldier a name, even though he vowed never to tell another soul about it, not even Antonia. A traditional choice like his father’s name was out of the question; they’d never got on, and he’d had no favourite uncles either. Blake and Zack sprang to mind as options, but that didn’t seem right somehow. He recalled Zack saying that parents often wanted their kids to be better than them, to make up for faults the parents couldn’t overcome. A single name came to mind, and resonated. It somehow fit, and it was about time. There had been a solider, an unsung hero who had helped save Earth and Esperia without a second’s thought for his own survival, someone Micah wished he could emulate, though he knew he would always fall short. Antonia had barely known him, but Micah thought she’d be okay with the choice.
He remained on Silent Hill until the first rays of dawn, thinking of the life his unborn son could have had, then got up and faced the cross one last time before heading back to town.
“Rest in peace, Vince.”
Micah stood at the ramp with Kat; the others had already boarded.
“Part of me is sorry you’re not coming, Kat,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.
Kat had seemed tense, and answered with some evident relief. “Me too, if I’m honest. But you saw how Petra is. And I can’t leave Aramisk and Antonia alone together, they’d end up killing or loving each other, probably both.” She tried to grin, gave up, grew serious.
“Come back, Micah. And do as Sandy says, kill Louise this time no matter what.” She mock-punched him on the arm.
Micah nodded, though coming back wasn’t on his agenda. She gripped his arm.
“What?” Micah asked.
She stared at him, hard. “Crap. You know, don’t you?”
There was no lying to her; they’d been through too much together. “Tell her how sorry I am. That I wish…”
“I’ll tell her, Micah. Truth is, I’m glad you know. But now I’m worried about your state of mind.”
“Don’t. It makes me all the more resolved to get the job done.”
She searched his face. “Come back, Micah. Promise.”
“Gotta go. Look after her.”
She let go.
Micah took one last look towards the small crowd, waved once to Petra, and saw Antonia next to her. He held up his hand, braved a smile, then turned and walked up the ramp. As soon as the hatch sealed behind him, he leant heavily against the wall. Gathering himself, he walked slowly to the bridge, the purr of Shiva’s drives beneath his feet. They’d already taken off. He quickened his pace.
When he arrived, Sandy took one look at him, then told him to sit down. Gabriel was in the pilot’s chair, and the screen showed the blue fade to twilight, then to night, the Shrell wires looming close as Gabriel threaded through them at a dizzying pace.
Micah cleared his throat. “Is he flying manually?”
“Said he wanted to practice. Shiva’s got override, just in case.”
He nodded towards Gabriel, a few metres in front of them. “How are you and he…?”
Sandy had her arms folded. “He’s not my Gabriel, Micah. Petra might convince herself.” She lowered her voice. “He’s a creature of Hellera, remember that, Micah. Kalaran might have promised Jen to restore Gabriel, but it was Hellera who actually delivered the goods.” She spoke louder again. “Gabriel and I talked about it, actually – he’s painfully honest – and he recalls my husband more than me…” Her voice caught.
He reached a comforting hand towards her but she drew away from it. “Sandy, I’ve not had a proper chance to say to you how sorry I am about Ramires.”
She jutted out her chin. “The best man that ever was.” Her eyes welled up.
“You’ll get no argument from me on that point.”
They said no more for a long time, as they watched Gabriel
slalom his way out of the Shrell field encapsulating Esperia’s system.
Micah stood. “Listen up, everyone. We need to talk strategy, we meet in the mess in five minutes.”
“Aren’t we going into Transpace? We won’t be conscious until we arrive.”
“Yes, and no,” Micah replied. He touched a pad. “Vashta?”
The Ossyrian medic entered the bridge, followed by a Hohash and a lone Spider.
Scattered across the galaxy, all the remaining Hohash gathered. They temporarily phased out of normal space and morphed into subspace. Hellera’s mind connected to each of them, as well as the Spiders. There was no speech, only a river of coherent thought. Hellera asked for an update, and each Hohash funnelled fused data cascades to her on the war, casualties, politics and alliances, army strengths and movements, weapons capabilities…
She took it all in. The tide of the war had turned; Qorall was losing, and losing fast. There would be one last major battle with his remaining armies, the decisive one between him and her. She presumed his original objective to capture and mate with her, or to use the DNA he would harvest from her dead and gutted ship for the same purpose, was off the table. She had pushed him into a corner. His game plan now would be either to win the war or destroy the galaxy. Then he’d hunt down and kill the other Kalarash one by one. Whilst her DNA was most favourable – because she was female – to create a line of descendants for Qorall, it wasn’t beyond his ingenuity to adapt male Kalarash DNA for the same purpose; at least Kalaran had thought so.
The single unstable variable for the upcoming battle, the one that could tip the balance in Qorall’s favour, was the potential Qorall-Q’Roth alliance. She had programmed Gabriel to deal with it, but knew it might already be too late due to Louise, a factor she’d underestimated. Another uncertain variable was the Machine race. They would leave the galaxy if Pierre stuck to his word, or rather, if his will still held enough sway with the Machines, now they had regained full strength. One Machine ship was still in contact with her, the one containing what was left of the mind of Pierre. Most of the other Machine ships were swarming at the outer edge of the galaxy. The deal stood, so far.