Etude to War (Earth Song Cycle Book 4)

by Mark Wandrey

  “We thank you. We were hoping you could tell us about this.” She keyed the tablet which produced another image. Lilith had recorded the image of the Tog ship and heavily modified it so it looked like it was taken through a telescope. Even with that, P’ing jerked like someone had poked hse with a kloth prod. “We were told by you that the Concordia abandoned starships eons ago. Why were we lied to?”

  “This image is recent?”

  “Days ago.”

  The Tog removed hser own tablet, a narrower model with grooved edges to allow the three-fingered species to hold it with a firm grip. Hser fingers tapped in rapid sequence, and Minu burned to see what was going on. Then, quite suddenly, hser head jerked up to spear Minu with a powerful gaze. “You are being deceitful,” hse accused.

  Minu swallowed and remained calm. This was a game of cards with stakes far higher than she was accustomed to. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you?” P’ing spun hser tablet around so Minu could see. It was her turn to look surprised when she saw the enhanced shot of the Kaatan, obviously taken from an extreme distance, in profile. The blurred stars around it suggested great speed. “Does this clear your mind?”

  “So, we’re both holding back facts.”

  “Facts? Minu Groves of our Chosen, you and your people are playing in a game of which you do not understand the consequences.”

  “How many species still have starships?”

  “Many, but not all.”

  “Why are our protectors, our benefactors, lying to us? Humanity treats you like its parents, and this is how you repay that trust?”

  “It is the rules we are forced to operate under, they control us as much as you.”

  “Then explain them to me.”

  P’ing put away the tablet and lowered hser head. “I cannot.”

  “Why are you spying on us from the edge of the solar system instead of coming through the Portal or sending official inquiries?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “WHY?” she practically screamed, not believing she was yelling at a Tog, especially P’ing.

  “Because your time of Awakening has yet to arrive.”

  Minu felt her anger become a living thing. In almost a decade as Chosen she’d come a long way in learning to control that seething monster living in a cage just down the hall from the little room. The occupant of the room, also quiet for some time, flippantly suggested she let the damn thing out. She resisted the urge, but only just.

  “Awakened. I’ve had that thrown in my face one too many times. By you, by the Squeen, and even by the damned computer. I know it means more than just allowing full access to the Concordian computer network. Will you either explain yourself or tell me how to become ‘Awakened,’ so I can finally get some fucking answers?”

  “You should not wish for such a terrible thing.” Hser words made Minu shiver unconsciously.

  “That tablet and this vessel we have seen pursuing our reconnaissance ship point to the fact that you are deeply embroiled in events which are quickly spiraling out of control. The T’Chillen lay claim to the only surviving examples of starships made by The People, like that ship, and we spotted one near the Bellatrix star system. Just as the tablet is an example of their lost technology, I further suspect many of your recent technological ‘discoveries,’ which have made your fellow Humans much more successful and popular among the lesser species of the Concordia, are similarly linked.

  “And I now know where you obtained your medical codex, though I secretly suspected it from the beginning. Being a hominid is dangerous enough without all the rest of this. In fact, were it to become public knowledge in the Concordia, it would likely result in either complete societal collapse or all-out galactic war. And that is something which has not occurred in millions of years.” A shiver ran up hser back, starting at the horse-like rump and finishing between the shoulders.

  Minu felt like she was drowning. Any such grandiose proclamations would be summarily dismissed were they to come from almost any being other than a Tog. They might be able to lie with the best of them, but flights of fancy or melodrama were completely beyond them. If a Tog seemed mad, it was mad. If a Tog appeared excited, something exciting was going on. And if a Tog acted scared, you’d best seek cover.

  “At the very least, you have to tell me what this Awakening is.”

  “It is the removal of all computer blocks to your species, allowing complete, unfettered access to the Concordian data network. It is the ability to engage in any venture or contract with another species regardless of the implications to your guardians. It is the release to seek leaseholds and to pursue war as you wish. It is all because your guardians are no longer your guardians.

  “And, finally, it means you will discover certain truths that only Awakened species are allowed to know. These secrets are kept from all un-Awakened species and are the deepest most sacred law in the Concordia. As I said, this isn’t something you might wish for. Humanity is a fragile species, if also powerful and brave. Many young beings such as yourself do not survive their Awakening. And that is the reason it is our highest law, that only the species’ guardians can bestow that blessing, that curse, that horrible gift of freedom and set their protected loose upon the galaxy. Or…set the galaxy loose upon you.’

  Minu took it all in without blinking. “What if I were to demand Awakening?”

  “That is a most unwise decision.” Minu was about to continue when hse cut her off. “It is the purview of the clients’ guardians, ourselves of course, to make the determination that you are ready. None other can make that decision, not even the ruling council of the High Concordia on Nexus can take that from us, unless our light were somehow put out from the universe. However, it is not without precedent that a species demands its own Awakening, and Concordia law supports this decision while simultaneously cautioning against it in the strongest of terms.”

  “And what about the debt we owe to you, our guardians, for rescuing us from our fate.”

  “There is no debt.’

  “What?”

  “I said there is no debt. It is part of the Awakening. For some species, there is a debt registered with the Concordia for a rescue, but it is up to the guardians to decide this. No formal law exists. We have never registered a debt against Humanity.”

  “Then why?” she almost cried. “You’ve held that debt over our heads for more than a century, demanding our service and obedience. For what then?”

  “As I said, it has to do with the Awakening. What is needed more than anything is time. What you have earned for us, with some small exception, will be returned to you, with interest.”

  “So, we were simply your servants?”

  P’ing didn’t answer, just waited. The dim afternoon light outside shone through the windows making hser eyes glimmer.

  “How do we make the formal request for Awakening?”

  “The highest-ranking member appointed by a client species to represent them in matters before their guardians must make that claim on their behalf, and in their best interests.”

  The room felt like it was slowly draining of air. In years of service she’d never backed down from a challenge, never failed to face death when it came calling, and never made a gamble that didn’t pay off, though not always the way she’d planned it. But she’d never faced a decision that affected an entire planet full of her own people. “I am the highest representative of Humanity.”

  “You have been promoted and left this post.”

  “I was promoted, but the post remains mine. The formal description of the position states that the current office holder retains title until his or her replacement is named. No replacement has been named. The decision is mine to make.”

  P’ing stared with hser unblinking eyes.

  “Then what is your decision, Minu Groves?”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 6

  Data was shared through the trillions of cubic light-years of the Concordia via many differe
nt means. Secure data or data of a military or industrial nature often moved in message packets carried by living couriers. Some moved from Portal to Portal through laser and beam pulse communicators. And a vast amount traveled through an ancient network of quantum burst transmitters.

  These transmitters used quark echo imaging to send signals that could be simultaneously received at any conceivable distance. Tied into the all-present Concordian data network, few were even aware these transmitters existed or questioned how information from worlds ten thousand light-years away was instantly available to them as it was generated.

  An automated scout ship, one of hundreds that plied the galaxy on an unending circuit of exploration and verification, discovered something it had been on the lookout for more than a million years. The robotic scout ships carried protocols for thousands of things to watch for, but this one thing was important because of its assigned priority and the fact that it was the last real-time order given to the ships.

  The data passed through the quantum communication network, instantly appearing in billions of computer networks throughout the galaxy, available to anyone who chose to look for it. As luck would have it, someone was looking for it.

  An ancient intelligence stirred to higher alertness as the information arrived. Old beyond imagining, they slept for centuries at a time, always awake on some level, watching how civilization moved and changed. They responded to these changes in the way a sleeper rolls over or adjusts the covers, automatically and unconsciously.

  They were watchers, manipulators, silent chess masters. Six years earlier (an imperceptible blink to them), a ship was spotted, and the watchers took notice. Active observation increased by a fraction. The spotting could be erroneous, a fluke. This time, when it was spotted, they were prepared to respond. They initiated contact with a new asset. They required more information to put a plan into motion.

  * * *

  Julast 17th, 533 AE

  Chosen Headquarters, Steven’s Pass, Bellatrix

  “You are unable to control your actions!” Jacob raged at her. “You go to Herdhome to find out who has starships, and you come back saying we can be released from the Tog on your say so? Who do you think you are?”

  “Someone who is trying to look out for our people’s interest.”

  “That is not your decision to make.”

  “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “I don’t know. To brag? I’m surprised you didn’t make the phenomenally stupid decision to separate from the Tog by yourself.”

  “I’m not so sure it would be a stupid decision.” All seven members of the Chosen council (plus Minu and Jacob) sat in an emergency session, something that had last happened at the beginning of the Rasa vendetta more than thirteen years earlier. Now all eyes turned to the speaker, Bjorn Ganose, who, despite wearing a civilian suit also wore two silver stars on his cuffs. These days he split his time between a civilian scientific research institute and teaching at the University of Tranquility, and he seldom attended the council meetings, especially since his replacement as head of the science branch.

  “We’re not interested in your opinions,” Jacob snapped.

  “You aren’t the one to make that decision,” Dram reminded him, “and you know that.”

  “Know your place, Aluvala!” Dram’s bright eyes flashed dangerously. Luckily for Jacob, someone else stepped in.

  “We are all here to be heard, First.” Of all people, it was Jasmine Osgood who spoke this time. If Minu had to make a list of those least likely to come to her aid, the black-haired Peninsula woman would be near the top of that list.

  “Thank you,” Minu said and nodded to Jasmine as she stood. The science branch head gave a small smile in reply. “I’ve been chasing the truth of the Concordia’s secrets since my career as a Chosen began. Everywhere we turn we’re faced with contradictions, fabrications, and lies.

  “Why are we the only hominid when there are multiple examples of every other biological type imaginable, in some cases hundreds of examples? And why are there are no records of our type going back as far as the Concordia’s conveniently self-erasing records go?” Minu began ticking off points with the fingers of her left hand.

  “Why is the galaxy full of junkpiles and ghost planets? All the evidence indicates our planet is an artificial construct, made habitable, then moved in its orbit as many as four times as the sun slowly became increasingly dangerous. What happened to that technology? We’re told they abandoned starships as impractical, a waste of assets. Now we find out starships are not only still around, but there are a fuckload of them flitting about the galaxy.

  “And I find out there is an even bigger lie, right in front of our faces. We don’t owe the Tog a damned thing. They saved us out of the goodness of their hearts, then kept us as their servants, their slaves, for more than a century, just so we would feel beholden to them and not demand to be free. Why? Because if we are free, we’d be ‘Awakened’ and know the truth.

  “That truth is so terrifying, some species do not survive its revelation. Awakening is their highest law, a law that is, itself, secret. Breaking that law brings down a fate like the Rasa got for daring to piss off the T’Chillen.”

  The circle of councilors watched her with wide eyes, none daring to speak or move. Minu took a breath and leaned back against the table she’d been standing next to. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breath felt ragged.

  “And the icing on this cake is P’ing saying our getting involved risks destroying the entire galaxy! It would be an outrageously fanciful farce, if not said by a Tog. Something more is going on than we understand, and I’m so close to it I can taste it. This is much bigger than me and him,” she said, pointing at Jacob.

  The man sat, arms crossed over his chest and eyes shooting gigawatts of hatred at her. She wondered if he’d heard a thing she said.

  “The truth is something we don’t have to know, we must know. Now. Will you allow me to set us free?”

  * * *

  Minu never found out the result of the vote; she only knew that it didn’t go in her favor. “You are restricted from requesting the Awakening of Humanity by the Tog,” the email instructed her. “This is the ruling of the council.” She stored the message with a sigh. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

  She was back in her comfortable office in the War College, going through the bios of the newest class which would begin in a few weeks, once Julast let go and September finally arrived. The temperature outside hovered near thirty-two Celsius, not a bad day for mid-Julast in Tranquility. There were even a few clouds providing occasional shade. She tried to enjoy it, but the defeat by the council wouldn’t let her rest.

  “Ariana, I’m going out—”

  She stopped and laughed at herself for forgetting her assistant was taking care of a newborn. So, she pushed the ‘away’ button on her phone panel, grabbed a shoulder bag and her floppy hat, and headed out the door.

  The weather in the university quad was as delightfully nice as it appeared from her window several stories above. The dormitories were beginning to fill with students of all ages, many coming for classes in her War College. Those students were often easy to spot among the crowds. They tended to be a bit older, somewhat better educated, and a whole lot more serious than the average new student. They dressed similarly, usually in working-class garb, and tended to shun a lot of the high-tech gadgets so popular among the young of this generation. And, the majority were black.

  It was an accident that the Desert Tribe was the hotbed of soldier recruitment. Something about the Rangers called to them more than it did to any of the other tribes. Minu expected the Rusk to send their young, but they seemed to want the glory without the education. She was educating officers, leaders that would take the next generation of Rangers and Chosen to what she hoped was humanity’s destiny. But after her failed attempt to convince the council that freedom was worth the price, whatever it was, she was afraid her own generation would not li
ve to see that destiny.

  Off to one side, a group of twenty young men and women were playing a pickup game of football. They weren’t the ones attending on athletic scholarships. Those students mostly stayed in the newer, western dorms, closer to the sports complex. Her War College building butted up against the old physics department, just across from the Humanities College. These were probably liberal arts students, local Plateau and New Jerusalem kids by the looks of them.

  Minu watched them play for a while, the group reveling in their youth and newfound freedom before classes began in another week. Had any of them tried to become Chosen in the Trials two years ago and failed? Most looked young and strong; even if they’d fallen short as Chosen, they were still prime candidates for the Rangers. Then she realized they might not have considered service as an option.

  “What must that be like?” she wondered aloud.

  She found an unoccupied bench and sat, putting her bag next to her and drawing out her tablet. Class schedules and student profiles scrolled down the page as she occasionally glanced up and watched the kids play their game.

  “One of them could have been me,” she mumbled. Then she really considered the idea. What if she had taken her father’s suggestion and gone to college instead of becoming Chosen? She’d have graduated years ago and would probably be working for a technical firm somewhere on Bellatrix. Would she have married in that world as well? Maybe had a child too?

  “Safe to say the kid in that scenario wouldn’t be sixteen years old and the Combat Intelligence of a starship.”

  It was a strange feeling wondering if you made the right decisions in your life, and Minu didn’t like it. She’d considered walking away from the Chosen several times over the years. She’d even done it once, years earlier when the Chosen council wouldn’t take her recommendations to build the network of forts that now dotted the planet. It was P’ing who brought her back with the promise that her ideas would be listened to, and they had been.