by M. R. Forbes
He neared the entrance to the facility. It was located in a tall, cavernous space within the ship, adjacent to the laboratories where drumhr and lor'hai science teams worked to improve the compatibility of the genetic splice and to improve the health of the bek'hai. As a starship at war, the Ishur's geneticist population was only a handful, and the cloning facility should have been in hibernation until they needed to bolster their numbers.
He could tell right away that it wasn't sleeping. The facility rose along the frame of the room like a rounded honeycomb, and light was escaping through the thinner areas in the flesh-like wall. The floor vibrated softly from the operation of a segregated power supply. Tea'va hadn't known the Ishur's cloning facility was on separate power. No wonder there had been no noticeable strain on their overall output.
A clone soldier was standing guard near the entrance. There would be no way for Tea'va to enter without passing him. It didn't matter. Now that he had confirmed his suspicion, he needed to shift his focus to the truth that was coming further into clarity.
Gr'el was creating clones behind his back. Zoelle had to know about it and had lied to him. His command and his life were both under threat.
He cursed his blindness to the whole thing as he turned around and headed back to the upper part of the ship. He had to hurry and rally the lor'hai and drumhr who would be loyal to their Dahm. He had to stop Gr'el before his was able to solidify his plans. The first wave of clones had no doubt been released after the Ishur had arrived in the Pol'tik system. That was why the Mother had been unaffected by the travel. It meant there were as many as two hundred of them on board, fresh and healthy and under Gr'el's control.
He growled under his breath. It was all falling apart so quickly, so easily. All of his plans were unraveling before he ever had the chance to execute them. Druk to the humans. Druk to Gr'el. Druk to the un'hai, to Zoelle, and to all of the lor'hai.
He touched the pin on his chest, opening a comm channel. The drumhr would be loyal to their Dahm. No amount of empty promises could buy their loyalty.
"This is Dahm Tea'va," he said. "Gi'shah Dahm Vel'ik, what is your status?"
He waited through the silence.
"Gi'shah Dahm Vel'ik, status report," he said.
Again, only silence.
He growled again as he reached the transport hub. He turned the corner, heading for the beam and the upper decks of the fortress. He froze when he saw two lor'hai soldiers standing over the body of a third clone. He recognized the dead one as a member of the original crew.
Was he too late?
He grabbed the weapon from beneath his robes, holding it behind him as he approached the clones.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked.
The two clones didn't speak. They each raised a plasma gun toward him and then tumbled over as he shot them in the head.
He didn't step into the beam. He knew now that he was too late. Gr'el had likely made his move at the same time the Mother was attacking him. There was some small satisfaction that his traitorous commander would soon discover that he was still alive, but it was only a small sense.
Just like that, he had lost control of the Ishur.
THIRTY-FIVE
Donovan didn't bury Diaz, despite Murphy's offer of help from the scavengers they had saved. He burned her instead, building a massive funeral pyre in the center of the destroyed city, right near the church, close to where her grandfather had once lived. He had a feeling she would want it that way, especially knowing that there was no way the bek'hai wouldn't see the smoke. He pictured the rising pillar as a gigantic middle finger, casting its opinion back toward the dark spots in the distance. Diaz would have approved of that.
The pur'dahm had promised three days, and Ehri had affirmed that the Dread would keep the promise. For whatever else they were or weren't, they did have an honor system that they held to, one that had survived tens of thousands of years.
He hadn't said anything when he lit the pyre. He simply stood and watched the flames rise up the vegetation until they had enveloped Diaz and started to burn her flesh. He had wanted to turn away then, but he didn't. She was more than Renata Diaz. She was all of the people who had died for their cause, and he wasn't going to disrespect them by looking away.
Ehri, Soon, and Iwu remained close for a long time. Soon took a seat on the ground after a while, his head beginning to bother him. The others helped him maintain the vigil for the three hours it took to begin to die down. Murphy joined them an hour in, trailed by his wife and daughter.
"What do we do now?" the leader of the scavengers asked him. Murphy couldn't have been more than a few years older than Donovan, but he looked so much older.
"Why are you asking me?" Donovan replied. He couldn't even keep his friends alive.
"You're with the resistance. I thought that you might have a plan."
"I had the beginning of a plan. It fell apart."
Murphy looked at the pyre. "Was she your wife?"
"A friend. Maybe she would have wanted to be if it weren't for the Dread."
"Do you think she would have been?"
"I don't know. It doesn't matter now."
"It always matters. It's the possibility that motivates us. The potential that keeps us going. If you cared about her, it will motivate you more to make the Dread pay."
Donovan let himself smile. "I already have more than enough for them to pay for. What about you?"
"Everyone here has lost something. It might surprise you to hear that some of the worst stories come from people who have had run-ins with jackals. They say they make the Dread look downright friendly sometimes."
"Is it that bad?"
"I don't know. What I do know is that it isn't safe out there. Not for anyone. We came this way hoping to steer clear of it. We thought this city would stay abandoned. We've only been here a week. The Dread didn't waste any time coming after us."
"They have orders to kill everyone who's left," Donovan said.
"I've heard Washington State. Well, what used to be Washington State, is getting hit hard. There was a pretty large settlement building up there. A peaceful settlement. I heard they had been bribing the local bek'hai contingent to let them alone."
"Bribing them with what?"
"Booze? Women? Who knows. I heard they don't like any of that stuff. I have no idea what could convince them to be compassionate."
Donovan glanced over at Ehri, who shrugged.
"Yeah, anyway," Murphy continued. "Like I said, it isn't safe out there. For anybody. Then you come along. You're fighting the bek'hai. You have their weapons. You killed that one as easy and cold as I've seen a man kill any living thing. There's safety in numbers, mister." He paused. "Where the hell are my manners? I don't even know your name." He stuck out his hand. "Murphy O'Han. This is my wife Linda, and our daughter Shea."
Donovan took it. "Major Donovan Peters. This is Ehri. Captain Soon Kim is sitting over there with Doctor Nailah Iwu."
"A doctor?" Linda said. "For real?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Linda's sister is back in the underground. She's got an infection."
"Do you think she can help?"
"She will if she can," Donovan said.
Linda took Shea by the hand and guided her away from them and to Doc Iwu.
"So I was saying," Murphy said. "It's clearly not safe for us here. Maybe not anywhere. If we want to survive, we have to stick together, right?"
"Or scatter too far apart to get caught," Donovan replied.
"Workable in theory, but impossible in practice. Us humans are too social. We'll bunch up again sooner or later."
Donovan knew that was true. "So you want to travel with us?"
"I don't know where you're going, but it has to be better than here."
"I can't guarantee that."
"I'm not looking for a guarantee. Look, I've got fifty people down in the underground, and another fifteen left that are willing and able to hold a firearm and stand and f
ight against the Dread. That's sixty-six of us that I'm doing my best to keep alive. I didn't ask for the position, but it's mine."
"I understand how that is."
"Then you know I have a responsibility to do what I think is best for these people. Judging by the fact that you bought us three days of peace by killing that ugly bastard, I think our best chance is with you."
Donovan stared at the flames while he thought about it. "The problem is that if I accept you, they become my responsibility. I have a war to fight. I can't afford to be tied down by civilians."
"I get that, Major," Murphy said. "I respect that. If you say yes, they stay my responsibility. I take care of them; you take care of yourself. Well, maybe you send a few shots our way if the Dread attack. I want to help you fight your war, not hurt it. Believe me; even you'll be safer with some more bodies around you. The Dread purge is making the jackals more desperate. They think stockpiling weapons and food and slaves is going to save them in the end. Idiots."
"Did you say slaves?"
Murphy shook his head. "You think the Dread are the only ones keeping slaves these days? Not so, Major. I've heard stories. The jackals are taking servants of their own, women and children mainly. You can guess what they're using them for."
"Even if we win the war, will there be anything left to salvage?" Donovan asked.
"There's a lot of good people out there, too. It's just that they're running scared, hiding most of the time. You have the training. You have the weapons. Maybe you can do something about it."
"We're trying," Donovan said. "It isn't easy."
"Nothing worth doing ever is. What do you say, Major? Let us tag along. We'll give you safety in numbers; you'll give us safety in your experience. It's a good deal for both of us."
Donovan looked at Ehri. She didn't say anything. This was his decision to make. Like Murphy, he had somehow wound up in charge.
"Do you promise to follow my orders?" Donovan asked.
"Yes, sir," Murphy replied. "I'll make sure the others do, too."
Donovan wasn't confident he was doing the right thing, but he put his hand out anyway. He couldn't abandon these people after he had managed to save them.
"Deal."
THIRTY-SIX
It was early morning when Donovan finally left the pyre to smolder. Diaz's corpse was no longer visible beneath the ashen remains of the fuel that consumed it. Murphy had agreed to take care of the bones, and he and a few of his men had been busy digging the grave nearby.
"Major," Ehri said. She had remained by his side for hours, standing with him in silent support, though she had left a few times to check on the others.
"What is it?" Donovan asked.
"We should go and examine the transport. Til'ik honored your request and ordered his troops to abandon it as it was."
"Not the smartest idea, was it?"
"He didn't expect you to defeat him. I can only imagine the Domo'dahm's reaction when he learns what happened. He will probably end Til'ik's splice line completely."
"Have you seen Soon and Nailah?" Donovan asked.
"They're with the people in the underground. Doctor Iwu is treating whoever she can, and Soon is playing with the children."
"With his injury?"
"He's mostly telling them stories about space."
"Maybe we should go down there instead?"
Ehri smiled. "It is good you haven't lost your spirit, Major."
"I won't let them take everything from me," he replied. "Let's go see the transport."
They crossed the open area, back to where the Dread ship was still resting. Murphy's people had stayed away from it at his request, looking relieved that they didn't have to get too close. Donovan had become so accustomed to the enemy he had forgotten how most people feared them.
The transport was large, nearly twenty meters long and five meters wide, with an angry face and the scaly, irregular shape created by the armored shell. There was a ramp leading up to the side of the vessel, and Donovan and Ehri climbed it to make their way inside.
There were no seats in the vehicle, but there were ripples in the floor where the clones could place their feet. The front of the ship was open, the outside visible through a clear viewport.
"A restraining field holds the soldiers in place," Ehri said, pointing at the ripples. "It is the same field that prevents the vacuum of space from entering the bek'hai ships beyond the atmosphere. It also provides artificial gravity to the fortress, and allows a vessel like this to fly."
"How does it work?"
"Microburst Gravitomagnetism. A type of magnetic field. It is similar to the process used on human starships, only more refined."
"You mean more advanced?"
"The bek'hai are thousands of years older than the human race. There's nothing shameful about what your kind has accomplished."
"I never said I was ashamed."
Ehri brought him to the front of the ship. The pilot seat was human-scale and looked rather comfortable. It was the controls that gave Donovan pause.
"How does it work?" he asked, staring down at the two pools of blue gel positioned on either side of the chair. They were resting in cutouts of four-fingered hands that were twice the size of a human's.
"It is called Kool'ek. It is an organic, conductive gel that is used for direct communication from the nervous system of a bek'hai to the ship's control system. The pilot places their hands in the gel, and the link allows instantaneous bi-directional feedback. In a sense, the bek'hai becomes the ship."
"It doesn't work for humans?"
"No. We lack the chemistry to create the proper signals, as do the more advanced drumhr splices. There are workarounds that utilize the gori'shah as a go-between, but they reduce the overall effectiveness of the system. The kool'ek is being phased out as the bek'hai move closer to maintaining a balance of derived genetics, but until the majority of drumhr are converted, such technology will remain. It is unfortunate. If we could fly the transport, we would be at the resistance base within a few hours."
"Very unfortunate," Donovan said. "Can we do anything with the transport?"
"That is what we came to find out."
She headed to the rear of the ship again, finding a blank space on the rear wall and putting her hand to it. A seam appeared on the wall, and then it slid aside, revealing a storage compartment.
Donovan peered into the space. It was large enough for a person to stand in or pass through. There was a visible hatch at the rear, and storage racks aligned on either side. The racks were mostly empty, but not completely. Four plasma rifles remained, standing upright in a simple receptacle.
Ehri entered the compartment and lifted one of them. She smiled and passed it to Donovan. "Unsecured."
He took it and turned it on, and then nodded. "What's back there?" he asked.
"The power generators."
"How do they work?"
"You are very curious today."
"I'm being exposed to more and more of the bek'hai technology. I want to understand it."
"The generators on the transports are a simplified version of the system you saw inside the capital fortress. It is like your quantum phase generators in that it creates a pathway into slipspace, though in this case, it is the size of a pinhole. The system extracts the zero-point energy from the quantum state."
"Won't that cause problems with slipspace? Instability or something?"
"No. The amount of zero-point energy available is large enough to be considered infinite. The difficult part is in the extraction. The fortresses increase the size and output of the generators, and pair them with secondary systems that store excess energy for use when a slipspace link is unavailable."
"I always heard that slipspace is everywhere."
"Almost, but not quite. There are a number of dead zones throughout the universe. Most occur near supermassive black holes, but they aren't unheard of in random places. Even the bek'hai don't understand the exact nature of these regions."
"It's a hard concept for me to get my head around," Donovan said.
"It can be challenging," Ehri agreed. "The fact that you asked at all is an important first step."
Donovan smiled. "Thanks." He pointed at the rifles in the rack. "This gives us seven. I'll have Murphy hand out the extras to the most skilled shooters in his group."
"I think that's a good idea."
Donovan backed up into the center of the transport again, looking around at the inner part of the ship. Ehri joined him there a moment later.
"I noticed how angry you became when you saw the soldiers killing the scavengers," he said. "And how angry you became at Til'ik for what he did."
"Every moment of freedom brings me further from my life as a slave," Ehri said. "Every moment with you and the others helps me feel more human. I want to be accepted by you. To be one of you. I want to show the other lor'hai that they can be, too. I'm genetically human. My loyalty is to my kind. Humankind. The bek'hai made me, but that does not give them the right to own me."
"You are accepted and valued. I'm happy that you're with us. With me."
Donovan stood facing her, looking into her eyes. A brief thought crossed his mind that he should kiss her, but he dismissed it as an image of Diaz's lifeless body followed. He broke her gaze, looking around at the transport again.
"I have an idea," he said a moment later. "Tell me if you think this will work."
THIRTY-SEVEN
Theodore and Colonel Choi were already in the conference room when Gabriel arrived. They were talking softly to one another and fell silent when he entered the room.
"Captain St. Martin reporting, sir," Gabriel said.
Theodore raised his eyebrow.
"Major St. Martin, reporting," Gabriel corrected.