by M. R. Forbes
"Eight weeks?" Donovan said. "You went from a single cell to a seventeen-year-old human in two months? And you've been alive for seven years since then? How do you have such an extensive education?"
"If you don't mind, Major," Montoya said. "I'll ask the questions. Ehri, go ahead. I'm also interested to know."
"First, during the generation process, targeted electrical currents are used to implant a standard set of directives and information into the developing brain. We leave the generation chamber already able to speak the bek'hai language, dress ourselves, and perform other functions an adult bek'hai is expected to perform. Second, each lor'hai, or clone, regardless of type, has a purpose. A specific job that they are intended to do. As a scientist, I dedicated all of my time to study beneath Dahm Tuhrik, eventually becoming his Si'dahm. His second."
"So you're saying you have no children at all?" Montoya asked.
"No. The bek'hai culture had children once, many hundreds of years ago. That has not been our way for quite some time."
"Then do you have relations?"
"Relations?" Ehri asked, confused.
"Sexual relations. Intercourse."
"No. It is a process that my team would like to re-introduce. As it is, the bek'hai can generally be divided into three classes. If you are not a warrior or a scientist, you are a servant of warriors or scientists."
"You said you want to re-introduce sexual intercourse? Why?"
"Our survival depends on it. Only certain kinds of genomes are acceptable for us in the generation chamber, despite many years of efforts to perfect the technology. Over time, this greatly retards genetic diversity. With our integration of humankind, we have a much larger pool of potential genetic code, but without natural reproduction, this pool will shrink and dry up once more."
"What kind of challenges have you faced?"
"Neither warriors nor scientists see the value in what you call relations. To them, it is primitive and animalistic. We have had some success with the servants, but their value is limited and we don't desire to over-diversify them."
"So you're saying that because servants are inferior, you don't want too many of them?"
"Yes."
"Like humankind?"
"There are parallels that may be interpolated, yes."
"You sound like a lawyer I used to know."
"Lawyer?"
"Never mind. You aren't an alien, in a sense, correct?" Montoya said. "You're a clone of a human woman."
"That is correct."
"What about the aliens? The real Dread? What do they look like?"
"I do not know."
The answer surprised both Doctor Montoya and Donovan.
"You don't know?" Donovan said, forgetting himself.
Ehri smiled at his speaking out of turn. She looked at him. "I have never seen a pure bek'hai. There are very few remaining. Even the Domo'dahm is a drumhr."
"Drumhr?" Montoya said.
"Half-human, half bek'hai," Donovan said. "I've seen them. You said you live around one hundred Earth years. Your kind has only been here for fifty. Why aren't there more of the original?"
"Major," Montoya said, trying to take charge of the interview again.
"Do you want to know?" Donovan asked.
"Yes."
"Then stop correcting me and get your pencil ready."
Montoya made a rejected face and readied his pencil. Ehri almost laughed at the reaction, her mouth parting in a small smile.
"The bek'hai were very sick. Only a small percentage have survived to the date of their surrender. The years since we arrived on this planet have produced healthier bek'hai in the form of the drumhr, but even they have their limitations. We are improving with each generation."
"I think I understand," Montoya said. "I want to come back to speak more on Dread, er, bek'hai culture, but for now let's talk about something else. Can you tell me more about your technology. Things like communications, transportation, computation."
"Shields," Ehri said. "Or the plasma weapons? I know you very much want to know how the bek'hai are able to both protect themselves and harm themselves the way they do. Even if I could answer that question for you, I wouldn't. That is something you will have to work out for yourselves, if you can."
Montoya stared at her, a sour expression crossing his face. "I have one more question, and then we can break for the day so you can get more settled. What do the bek'hai think about your treachery? How does such an action make them feel, in context with your culture?"
Donovan could tell by Montoya's face that he had been hoping the question would shake her, maybe as a test of her loyalty to both the Dread and the promise she had made to him.
She reacted with the same calm confidence as she had handled everything else.
"Some would label me a traitor, and wish me dead. Others will call me a hero for what I have sacrificed to be here, and for the knowledge I will gain if I survive."
"What do you mean, if you survive?" Montoya asked.
"This base is well protected, and well hidden. I believe you will survive here for some time. You will not survive here forever."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, Doctor Montoya. That is the simple truth of your situation. It requires no intervention from me, and I plan to provide none. As I have told Donovan, the Domo'dahm wishes all resisting humans dead within the year. The pur'dahm will do all in their power to make it so."
Montoya's face was pale, his hand shaking with a combination of fear and anger as he finished writing his notes. "Major, will you bring Ehri back tomorrow at the same time? I'll prepare follow-up questions based on what I've learned today."
"Sure," Donovan said. "Do you want to head to the cafeteria with us, Doctor?"
Montoya looked at Donovan as if he were insane. "No, thank you. I don't have much of an appetite right now."
FIFTY-SEVEN
"That went well," Donovan said, leading Ehri downstairs to the cafeteria. "Did you have to mention the part about your kind killing all of us again?"
"My apologies, Major. It is only-" she trailed off.
"Only what?" he asked.
She pursed her lips. She seemed conflicted to him. "I have seen little of this base or its people so far, I admit. Even so, I get this sense of an attitude that is permeating through both. It seems that while your kind believes things are bad, it is simply the new normal. That you have grown accustomed to it, and have become complacent and satisfied as a result."
Donovan glanced over at her. "You picked all that up just from talking to Montoya?"
"It isn't only Montoya. I saw it in you when we met as well. Even trapped in the bek'hai mothership, you seemed almost arrogant, despite your situation."
"Arrogance is a very human trait," Donovan said. "As is selfishness and jackassery."
"Jackassery?"
"Acting stupid. Like Reyes did. It's true that some of the people here have gotten too comfortable with how things are. Most of those people are refugees and civilians. They have important roles here on the base, but they never go out there. They don't see how the world has been burned. The arrogance you sense is a defense. A way of controlling fear. When you've been living afraid for so long, it just becomes a way of life. Montoya was not as much afraid of you as he was of what you represent."
"What I represent?"
"Yeah. Superiority. The future. I think everyone here knows the score. Humankind is dying, and unless we get lucky or do something smart we won't be here a year from now. We've been fighting an uphill battle for fifty years. A war where we were the only casualties until today."
"I understand. How do you manage it so well, Major?"
"Fear?"
"Yes."
"I invite it. It shows me how much I care. The alternative is to drown in it, and I can't stand the thought of that. You don't seem to be afraid of being here. You didn't hesitate to come back with us, and you seem more excited than frightened."
"I'm not afraid. Not of this. Per
haps because the bek'hai do not value life the way humans do. We are made to adults in a number of weeks while you take years to mature. It is even worse for clones. Even clone scientists are servants of a kind."
"That's what I don't understand," Donovan said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are the bek'hai's overall purpose? Do you love one another? Do you experience things outside of your assigned roles? Do you even have free time to do anything you want to do? It seems that as a whole, you're missing a lot of what makes life worth it. Maybe that's the real reason you don't value it very highly."
"I loved my Dahm. I love learning."
"What about music? Dancing? Jokes? Laughter? Celebrations?"
"Perhaps there is some of that among the pur'dahm," Ehri said. "I was made for a different purpose."
"And you don't desire anything else?"
"No."
She said it softly. Donovan wasn't convinced. "So being here to learn is the only reason to enjoy being here? What about the experience of what you learn? What about the meal you are about to eat? Or the emotions and the personalities of the people you will talk to?"
"I came to observe you, and I will return my observations to whoever is named the new Dahm."
"You were the Si'dahm. Shouldn't you become Dahm?"
"I cannot. I am not drumhr."
"And that's okay?"
"Yes. That is our way."
Donovan looked over at her again. They were almost to the cafeteria, and her face was flushed, her eyes cast down to the floor. He would ask her again once she had experienced a little more of a life of freedom.
Maybe she would be honest with him then.
FIFTY-EIGHT
"Colonel Choi, Captain St. Martin, Mr. Mokri, Mr. Larone, Mrs. Larone, come on up and join me, will you?" Theodore said in a booming voice.
Ten quiet, tense minutes had passed since the Magellan had entered slipspace, riding a wave of distortion across the vastness of the universe toward Earth. Most of the crew knew one another, or at least knew of one another, but it didn't diminish the level of eager discomfort they were feeling. They had disobeyed their superior officer. They were traitors and deserters, all of them.
At the same time, they respected Theodore and his point of view, one that fell much closer in line to their upbringing and training. To a man, with the exception of the Larones, they didn't want to run off to another planet. They wanted to stay and fight, even if the odds were impossibly stacked against them.
Gabriel rose from his pod, smiling at Miranda as he headed toward the back of the bridge with the scientists. Now that they were in the slipstream, he didn't need to do anything. Nobody did. Once the wave was joined, they would only need to worry about disengaging at the right place and time.
"Yes, sir?" Colonel Choi said, saluting Theodore when she reached him.
"Let's take a walk, shall we?" Theodore said. "There's a conference room across the corridor. I already called for Colonel Graham. I want to talk to the five of you."
"What do you want from us?" Guy said, looking at his wife. "Do you think we're going to help you?"
Theodore laughed. "I know you're going to help me, son. Because if you don't, this ship is going to get blown to flotsam, and you're going to be on it when it does."
"You're a damned psycho," Guy said, getting angry. "Keeping us here against our will, forcing us to take this trip with you. You don't get it, do you old man? Nobody in the NEA wants to fight this war anymore. They want a real home. A place where food grows in the ground, not on a wall."
Theodore leaned on his arms as if he was going to try to stand. He paused when he realized he couldn't, keeping himself in the position.
"Nobody?" he shouted, causing Guy to flinch and step back. "Who in the damned hells are you calling nobody? There ain't a soul in this universe who calls my son a nobody, you son of a bitch. There ain't a person on Earth or on Calawan that questions the value of the men and women who gave up everything to be on this ship, to fight for what they believe in, and to have the guts that you so sorely lack. Now, you will get in line, you will help us do what needs to be done, and you will do it with quiet respect, or I will throw you off of my starship. Do you hear me, boy?"
Guy clenched his jaw, somewhere in between anger and fear. Sarah stepped in front of him. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "Guy doesn't handle change well."
"Well ain't that sweet," Theodore said. "Welcome to the present, Mr. Larone. Change is inevitable. I'm an old man, and I ain't afraid of a little change. I invite it. Now, let's take that walk."
Gabriel helped his father into his chair this time. Theodore's arms were shaking and tired from holding himself erect to yell at Guy. They followed as he wheeled himself off the bridge and a few meters down the hall. The opposite door was open. Colonel Graham was already present, and he saluted sharply as Theodore entered.
"At ease, Jimmy," Theodore said. "Everybody grab a seat."
The chairs on the Magellan were plush cloth, much finer than anything they had in the settlements. Gabriel was surprised at their comfort as he took his seat next to his father. Not surprisingly, Guy took a position at the opposite end, keeping himself separate from the others while Sarah sat halfway between.
"You always been a peacemaker, Mrs. Larone?" Theodore asked.
"I don't see the point in conflict. Not now. If the only way we survive is to help as best we can, then that is what both of us will do." She glared at Guy. "Or you can find a new wife."
Guy looked like he wanted to say something. He remained quiet.
"The reason I asked you here is so that we can plan our first mission," Theodore said.
"Which is?" Colonel Graham asked.
"I'm going into the atmosphere," Gabriel said.
"What?" Colonel Choi said. "General-"
"I'm doing it," Gabriel said. "Thank you for your concern, Colonel. I can take care of myself."
She didn't look happy, but she nodded.
"Gabriel is going to take one of the fighters in and fly it low to try to get in contact with the resistance," Theodore said.
"The resistance is disbanding," Guy said. "You heard the message."
"I heard it," Theodore said. "But I know how people like me think. Just because one man wants to stop doesn't mean they all do. Besides that, we have information for them that they might find valuable. Hell, it might change the whole face of this war."
"How are you going to transmit to them?" Reza asked. "You have no idea what band they'll be listening on, if they're listening at all."
"That's why I need scientists, Mr. Mokri. Scientists like you and the Larones. You have a background in engineering, and they have both broad-based theoretical training and a specialty in waveform patterns. I ain't the smartest berry on the tree, but I think that ain't too different from slipstream patterns, is it?"
"No, sir," Sarah said. "I have some experience with communications systems. I spent a year over there during my training."
"That was fifteen years ago," Guy said.
"I remember most of it. Seriously, Guy. Either help or shut up."
"Fine. I've done some work on the fighters in the past. The phase generators, mostly, but I have a general understanding of the equipment on board."
"Good man," Theodore said, warming immediately with Guy's compliance. "I knew we could count on you. Now, what do we need to do to get the message to the resistance?"
"Besides a low altitude sweep?" Reza said.
"Yes."
"Well, what can you tell me about Earth communications before the invasion, sir?"
"There was nothing but dirt and smut on the Internet. I can tell you that much."
"The Internet, right. A hardened communication system, designed to withstand disruption by any number of natural disasters, or in this case an alien invasion. That's our best bet for an attack vector."
"I like how you speak, Mr. Mokri."
"Thank you, sir," Reza said, blushing. "So, without satellites or wireless links, they'll
have to be using wired connections. It's unlikely the Dread attack damaged underwater or underground cabling, so we should be in luck there."
"You can't transmit a wireless signal into a wire," Sarah said. "It needs to be received wirelessly."
"There has to be a receiver still active somewhere. It's a network, so all we need to do is hit one access point. I assume the data transfer protocols are the same as what is on the Magellan, sir?"
"There ain't been anyone to update them."
"Okay, so if we can get the gain high enough we can pump the signal out, and hopefully it will hit a functional device that can transfer it to whatever resistance computers may be up and running. If we assume that technology has been dormant on Earth, we can base our design on the equipment here on the Magellan."
"We'll need a lot of power to put out that kind of signal," Guy said. "Add to the friction of the atmosphere, and we will need to boost the starfighter's energy stores significantly."
"I have techs that can help with that," Colonel Graham said.
"I knew you would," Theodore said. "Now, you see what we can accomplish when our backs are against the wall?"
Colonel Choi was shaking her head. "So, Gabriel flies his starfighter into the atmosphere and makes a sweep of the surface, transmitting a signal to the resistance. I'm going to assume he makes it because he always has. I'll assume the resistance gets the message, too. Then what?"
"We'll wait near Mars, using the planet to stay hidden. Gabriel comes back, and then we wait. Mr. Mokri, how long until the next regular reconnaissance slip?"
"Sixteen days, sir."
"We'll wait sixteen days. Then Gabriel will go back to pick up whatever message they left for us. We'll decide what to do after that once we can reestablish communications."
"What if the Dread come looking for us?" Sarah asked.
"Then we'll play 'spot the gator' until we either launch the mission or die," Theodore said.
"You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Colonel Graham said.
"You're damned right I do," Theodore replied. "Everybody does their part, and maybe we can start turning the tide of this war. Now, let's get to it. Dismissed."