“I don’t think a closed-minded disposition will do any good. And it is not precisely a frivolous matter what is at stake here. You and Miss Erina represent an entire civilization, an entire race—the Terran race. The responsibility that comes with it is remarkably important and not unlikely crucial.” Alishar stared into Duncan’s eyes intensely, but with a cordial expression. “Lieutenant Dahncion, we are only asking for an open disposition today. This, however small, could constitute the starting point to ending this dreadful conflict.”
Duncan looked at the man, barely narrowing his eyes. He did not trust him, but what he had said so far made sense.
“We don’t expect you to understand our perspective with just a simple talk,” Alishar continued, with a collected posture. “These things do take time. But after much consideration, the people I endeavor to represent have a proposition for you, a proposition that conveys a promise and a new hope for ending this war and bloodshed.”
Duncan’s eyes widened with anticipation. “What kind of proposition, Mr. Alishar?”
“We would like to appoint you and Miss Erina Ambassadors of Peace between the Coalition and the Establishment.”
68.
“They will kill the hostages unless we abandon pursuit,” was Tygrum’s immediate objection to the captain’s intention to persist with the chase of the hijacking ship. The threat, issued through a standard communications channel, had been heard on the bridge and all its virtual stations. With it, all their fears of what had happened at Serena had been confirmed.
“I don’t think so,” O’sihn said from his seat at the head of a long table in the Intrepid’s main conference room. “All of us are quite familiar with Em-Rasinka’s esoteric beliefs, and how initially Dahncion was considered a serious threat to the Establishment.” O’sihn sipped from a glass of water he was holding in one hand, merely to wet his throat. “However, Intel reports indicate that the First Equitarian has lately been obsessed with making contact with Dahncion.” Em-Rasinka had coined her own title, First Equitarian, shortly after the Establishment was founded.
“True,” Laida said. “But ever since she concealed herself behind the walls of the Milenia,129 it has become practically impossible to gather any information about her.” The Milenia was the neuralgic center of the Establishment’s government.
“The reports I’ve just mentioned are recent,” O’sihn clarified.
“The threats we have just received from the enemy ship indicate their hostility towards Dahncion has not changed,” Tygrum pointed out. “Getting rid of Dahncion, they would get rid of a big risk.”
“Many think this way,” O’sihn conceded. “But there is more to it. Em-Rasinka and her followers seem to believe that if Dahncion or Erina were won over to the Establishment’s side, they could become a key factor in winning the Realdom over.”
“You gotta be kidding,” Tygrum growled. “Sorry about my outburst, Captain, but even if these reports are mostly accurate, it would still seem safer for the Establishment to just get rid of Dahncion and Erina without taking chances.”
O’sihn shook his head. “Some in the Establishment believe that with Dahncion in their ranks, they could effectively reach the Realdom, favoring an easy and peaceful equalization of it, and its subsequent assimilation into the Equity.”
Tygrum sighed in disbelief.
“However strange,” Lin Beaver, the Chief engineer, interjected, clearing his throat. “However strange, there is an intriguing parallel between the First Equitarian’s alleged beliefs and our own beliefs about Dahncion.”
“I don’t know,” Raikun objected, with a twitch of his head.
“Yes, doc?” O’sihn asked.
“What about the rumors about Em-Rasinka’s death, apparently from natural causes? Hasn’t the Establishment tried to conceal it?”
“We can dismiss all that. The notion has most likely been generated by Establishment’s Counter Intelligence.”
“For what purpose?”
“To have us believe that the future of this war has turned in our favor.”
Tygrum grinned. “And for what purpose?”
“Bait.” O’sihn clasped his fingers. “To lure us into taking more aggressive actions according to some painstakingly planned counter procedures. It could also be an elaborate strategy of psychological warfare.”
“Probably both,” Laida commented. “The enemy seems to believe that we see the First Equitarian as a deadly threat.”
“Isn’t she a deadly threat?” Tygrum leaned back in his chair. “In the last months, she has managed to anticipate and neutralize several key initiatives of the Realdom.”
O’sihn nodded. “Yet, as a consequence, the Realdom has become more careful in its moves, which is having the effect of prolonging the war beyond the Establishment’s expectations. Therefore, if we thought her dead, our morale would go up considerably, spurring us into taking more aggressive steps that could potentially make us fall into—”
The intercom rang with a call from the C.I.C. announced on its display.
“Yes, C.I.C.?”
“Captain, we’ve lost contact with the target.”
“What?”
“It . . . it’s just disappeared, sir. Apparently some form of sophisticated invisibility field. The ship does not register at all, not even in the gravitational bands.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Aye, Captain.”
With frustration, O’sihn looked at the X.O., who was sitting in front of him. Laida sighed. “I’m afraid we will not have to worry about our hot pursuit any longer.”
69.
Ambassadors of Peace between the Coalition and the Establishment . . . The statement, and the proposition, made a strong impression on Duncan, who stared at Alishar, dumbfounded for a moment. Could that be true? Could he be, indeed, a decisive factor to end the war? His fears over his very uncertain situation as a prisoner had dropped with the unexpected proposal. Even the constant anxiety and misgivings about his role in Reality had slackened. But suspicion immediately kicked in.
“Why do you think any of us could have any influence in the Coalition, as you call it?”
“Because some key elements within the Coalition believe that you may have a decisive role to play to end this war,” Alishar answered.
Duncan sighed. “What makes you believe that?”
“It doesn’t take a great intelligence effort to be acquainted with these facts, Dahncion. Peace is why you are here today, a new hope for peace.”
Duncan rubbed his neck uneasily. “So what are we to tell the Realdom? That you don’t want to force your Equity on it anymore?”
“Certainly there is always room for dialogue and mutual understanding—for trying to repair mistakes, where they have been made. But perhaps a blurred picture of us is making you believe we’d have an awful lot to change before peace can truly be achieved. You may eventually find out, Dahncion, that reality is somewhat different from how you perceive it today.”
“Perhaps, but . . . would this peace deal include the Realdom’s unconditional acceptance of your Equity?”
Alishar smiled briefly, shaking his head. “You are inclined to refer to the Equity as if it were some instrument of oppression.”
Duncan smirked. “And what is it?”
“It constitutes a powerful means for universal peace and harmony between very different peoples, with diverse species, and dissimilar cultures and behaviors,” Alishar stated with pride.
“Having one equalized culture, you can surely have a very convenient, uniform, one-colored, strange-to-diversity civilization. But I wouldn’t call that harmony, Mr. Alishar.”
Alishar reclined on his chair and stretched out his legs. “Dahncion, isn’t the prospect for peace, the hope for stopping all this bloodshed and useless destruction, motivation enough for you to reconsider your position? Won’t you allow for the possibility of the facts not being exactly as you think they are?”
“I think I have a
pretty good idea of reality already, just by looking at the facts, Mr. Alishar.”
Alishar smiled. “Whose reality, Dahncion? The Realdom’s?”
A light began blinking on a device Alishar carried on his wrist. He touched the top of it gently, and the blinking ceased.
“I suppose you must be very tired,” Alishar added. “Please consider this commission of peace we are offering you and Miss Erina. We can talk more about this later. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have some pressing matters to attend to.”
Alishar stood up and stepped back into the antechamber. There he typed a code on a transparent display and turned back to Duncan. “If you need anything, please use the intercom by your bed.”
Duncan nodded briefly, with a polite but cautious stare.
70.
Many hours had passed since Mr. Alishar’s visit, a long enough time for pondering about many things. Duncan was reclining on his couch. Through what seemed to be a general purpose exchange-channel built into a bulkhead, some food had been sent to him, but he had not touched it.
While he was thinking, Duncan absentmindedly raised his eyes. Above the terminal from where he had received his dinner, a rectangular panel, previously unnoticed by him, was blinking. A moment later, the lights of his room flickered for a fraction of a second, immediately followed by an up-and-down fluctuation in the gravitational field.
Duncan stood up and started looking around. Other than the blinking light, nothing else seemed to be happening. But he knew the perception was likely not true. All those signs were indication of the ship having engaged in battle. At first, he felt some relief, thinking the Realdom had finally come to his rescue. But that hope rapidly yielded to the fear that, whatever engagement the vessel might be getting into, Realdom forces would not necessarily have to be aware of his or Erina’s presence on board, in which case they would be trying to destroy the ship.
The power went off abruptly and came back again. This happened four times, until the lights literally blew up.
The ship shrieked and groaned like a wounded whale, and a deadly darkness ensued. In the midst of the deep silence, Duncan suddenly started hearing a hissing sound, which made his ears pop.
Running to the door, Duncan tripped over an object and knocked his head against a bulkhead. Poking his way out in the darkness, he finally found the door. He tried to pry it open by pushing the panes sidewise with his hands, but to no avail. With a clack, an emergency-light panel turned on, and a door slid open on one bulkhead.
A locker was revealed, with three suits inside. They appeared to be abandon-ship suits. A pressure leak was taking place, and in response, the automatic system had opened the emergency locker.
Duncan looked at the suits. They were in three different sizes. He picked the one in the middle and put it on quickly. It fit him almost perfectly. The final step was sealing the headpiece around his neck. Duncan zipped it without much reflection, and immediately, its life-support system activated.
“Argh!” Dashing his hand to the zipper, Duncan almost ripped the headpiece off. The life support system of the suit was adequate for the alien crew, but lethal for humans. The caustic air and the icy gas mix had produced a rash on Duncan’s neck, but it was only a superficial wound.
Frustrated, Duncan threw the other two suits to the floor. In doing that, he noticed that each one had a canister on its back. He stared at them for a few seconds and finally stepped onto the biggest suit. Grabbing its canister, Duncan managed to rip it off without damaging the suit. He immediately took off the medium-size suit he was still wearing and put on the large—or rather, super extra-large—one. Duncan hoped that the size of the suit would help it engulf enough air to give him some extra minutes, once the air in his cabin was gone. But what to do with those extra minutes?
With the new suit on, Duncan carefully zipped the headpiece, squeezing his eyes shut. The system clicked on, and much to his relief, nothing else happened. The suit was perfectly sealed from the environment, but it had no more air than what was engulfed in the loose folds of fabric hanging everywhere around his body. However, there was still plenty of air in the cabin. Trying to keep the limited air of his suit fresh as long as possible, Duncan opened the headpiece again.
Nevertheless, the critical question remained: what was he going to do once he was forced to seal the headpiece definitively before the air pressure in his cabin dropped too far? Before he had the chance to start truly worrying, a sudden hissing noise from the pressurizing antechamber to his room made him turn around. Duncan slowly moved back, his face dripping with a cold sweat.
Almost as a reflex, Duncan sealed his headpiece again. He did not know what to expect. He could feel his heartbeat going berserk.
Immediately the door to his cabin was activated, and Erina appeared standing in the twilight. Behind her, the entrance to the antechamber from the external corridor was wide open. On seeing the unsuspected individual in the bizarre suit, she hesitated. Erina was carrying a gun, and now she pointed it at Duncan.
“Don’t shoot, it’s me, don’t shoot!” Duncan cried out without removing his headpiece. His cabin was already filled with the lethal atmosphere of the vessel.
Suddenly, the ship groaned and wailed with twice as much intensity as it had before. Duncan smashed into a bulkhead, hit his head against the cabin’s overhead, and fell to the floor. Disoriented, he struggled to his feet.
Erina was lying on the floor by his bed. He rushed to help her and soon realized she was not wearing a helmet. Two tubes ran from her nostrils down to some apparatus hanging from her neck, inside an alien suit. Though obviously she could not breathe the ship’s air, the human-like complexion of her body (quite different from Duncan’s reconfigured complexion) seemed to have no problem coping with the alien atmosphere. Still, a yellowish, gelid sweat was starting to exude from her skin.
Erina was unconscious, and Duncan quickly realized that his attempts to revive her were not having any effect. He also knew he had little air left in his own suit. If they were to survive, he had to act quickly. At that point, the shuttle in which they had been captured flashed back into his mind. The hangar where it had been docked was not far, and he thought he could find his way back to it. However, would the shuttle still be there? Maybe not, but there seemed to be no other hope.
Becoming aware of the ZB2 130 accumulating in his suit, Duncan darted forward into the quiet hallway.
The ship’s gravitational field, maintained by the artificial-gravity system, was weak, similar to twenty-five percent of the equivalent Earth’s pull. Carrying Erina in his arms was relatively easy and not terribly exhausting. As Duncan crossed different corridors, he could see bodies of aliens strewn all over the place. They looked very different from Alishar or the two soldiers that had carried him and Erina to their cabins. They were rather short, very thin, and had large, bald heads. Many had orange streaks of blood coming from their mouths and ears. Fostered by the sub-freezing environment in which they lived,131 the bodies had already acquired the stiffness of death. Clearly, the aliens’ physiology was less resilient than Duncan’s or Erina’s in absorbing violent accelerations.132
Emergency lights were on everywhere, with depressurization warnings flashing at several spots. However, the ship was not dead yet. Twice, Duncan noticed blinking lights on panels connected to the main system, hinting that the ship’s plasma weapons were still being used. Besides, the gravitational system was still fully operational. The contrary would have meant instant death for both Duncan and Erina, since the ship’s acceleration133 would have squashed them against a bulkhead.
Sooner than expected, Duncan reached the hangar area. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but trying to get the gate to the hangar to open was now proving problematic. Feeling that he was about to faint, Duncan knelt down.
In doing so, he saw a red button close to the floor. He pushed it several times, but it was stuck. Standing up, he kicked it with all his strength. The large panes that formed the gate suddenly sli
d open. Ahead, the shuttle was standing proudly on deck.
Exhausted by the effort and the lack of air, his body totally numbed by the cold, Duncan stumbled towards the vessel, virtually dragging Erina along. His vision blurred, Duncan could only hope that he would not have to deal with the vessel’s opening system. Fortunately, it responded at the first try.
Duncan placed Erina on the copilot seat and checked the control panel. Everything seemed to be in order. As a first step, he activated the life support system. He had to wait one very long minute until the cabin was cleansed of the alien gaseous mix.
A blue light on the panel finally came on. Duncan snapped his headpiece open and threw it to the deck. He immediately turned towards Erina and looked at her. She was still unconscious. After a moment of doubt, he snatched the tubes from her nostrils.
Coughing and gasping, Erina responded rapidly to the cabin’s warm air. Without delay, Duncan turned back to the control panel and initiated the takeoff sequence.
While Duncan was working on the trajectory the ship was to follow,134 a lateral gate to the hangar opened up, and five armed troopers began firing on the shuttle. Time had run out. Only two alternatives seemed to be left: aborting the escape attempt and surrendering to the enemy, or trying something crazy.
Reason did not prevail, and Duncan opened fire against a bulkhead. The shuttle cracked miserably, but its gravitational system compensated for the ensuing brusque acceleration pattern as it moved out through the hole it had opened, pushed by the difference of pressures between the ship and space.
Far away from the enemy vessel, the small craft was suddenly drifting alone, resting peacefully in a star-filled expanse of serenity and solitude.
71.
Duncan had had no luck in getting the engines started. He had tried for several minutes, following all kinds of emergency procedures, with no results. Except for the gravitational system, the auxiliary life-support system, and a few more devices, everything seemed dead onboard.
Reality: The Struggle for Sternessence Page 23