TWENTY-ONE
“You asked me to come,” said Yibitriander without glee, “and I am here.”
“Thank you,” replied Kymee smiling, trying to lighten his son's dour mood. Kymee walked over, and they bumped shoulders. “It's more wonderful to see you than I might have imagined.”
“I'm used to you speaking in riddles, but even that one lost me.”
“Well,” Kymee said playfully, “I was looking forward to physically seeing you, and yet, I find that in beholding you, I'm more pleased, still.”
“For several million years, we've all been mentally linked. You and I are, technically, never apart. How is it that the act of perceiving me visually enhances your experience?”
“You never were given to sentimentality, were you?” Kymee twisted his mouth after speaking.
“Am I here for you to insult and deride, or is there a more noble purpose to your request?”
“Humorless too. I forgot about that one.”
Yibitriander flapped his eyes open and shut in frustration. “Shall I return at a time when you're ready to communicate your purpose? If you prefer, I can stand here and be lambasted. I am immortal.”
“Ah! There's the Yibitriander of old.” Kymee sat and motioned to a nearby chair. “I've called you to discuss some, err, troubling notifications I've received from Wrath.”
Yibitriander tightly balled up his fists, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “That he reported his revivification was not sufficiently repugnant news? Now he feels entitled to provide our uninterested ears a running commentary?”
“In this case, I think even your ears need to hear his report.”
Yibitriander took longer than he would have liked to compose himself. “I'm disconnected from his reality. We Deavoriath are removed from that flow of reality. That he gnaws at our edges and hopes to draw us out is meaningless.” He swiped an angry hand in front of his chest. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss before I take my leave?”
Kymee studied his son. Like countless fathers before him, he rubbed at his face absently and worried that his son was too impetuous and too self-assured for his own good. Kymee was fairly certain he himself knew what was to be. He wished, like fathers have through all the ages, that his son would also grow to know life's meaning. Anger, petulance, and mule-like stubbornness were hardly reliable guideposts along that path. But Yibitriander had always been the hottest head among the countless hotheads of his people. That, after all, was intimately linked to the evolution of Wrath, was it not? Two who were one, yet never together. Two who were bound to one purpose, but working toward diametrically opposed endpoints. They both needed more time. Kymee hoped that there would be enough time left. Yibitriander and Wrath both needed to gain the understanding they both lacked.
“You will stay,” stated Kymee, “and you will listen. What you do with the knowledge in your thick head is then up to you. But you will hear my words.” He looked out a window to an empty landscape devoid of life. “It's not enough that we declare ourselves superior and, hence, detached from the universe we once ruled with an iron fist. We are still a part of the whole. If we compound our endless errors by adding the arrogance of inattention to duties that are ours, we have learned nothing in more time than we deserve to have been allotted.”
A dutifully impugned Yibitriander rested back in his chair. “Speak. I'm listening.”
“Wrath reports that the remaining handful of Uhoor left in this galaxy banded together and advanced against Jon Ryan's adopted home world of Hodor.”
“And the outcome?” as if he did not know in advance.
“Wrath destroyed them without hesitation. Their kind no longer live in this galaxy.”
Yibitriander turned his palms up questioningly. “What else might they've anticipated? They knew with certainty that Wrath was capable of neutralizing them, as he had so many of their brethren before. If a man freely walks off a cliff, shall I cry when I learn of his death?” He rested his hands down.
“It's not that cut-and-dried, and you know it. Yes, I disliked the Uhoor, as did we all. They were aloof, humorless, and… wait, that's what I just said about you, wasn't it?” He laughed at his own joke. “But that they were vulgar didn't mean they deserved to die, even if they willed it. All are part of one, and one is in all. You know this, I pray, and agree with it, I pray still harder.”
“Is this a lesson, a scolding, or an update?”
“Yes!” Kymee shouted. He had not raised his voice in over half a million years. He surprised himself.
Yibitriander knew his father loved to bait him, or at least he had, back when such actions mattered and were condoned. He wondered, sitting there across from the old man, if he still loved him. Did Yibitriander love? Was it still a part of him? He had no idea. Still, only a fool was proud to be a fool. He would listen longer.
“Is that Wrath's full report?”
“No,” Kymee replied flatly. “If it were, I wouldn't have troubled you.”
“You have not troubled me yet. I'm glad you value my company. I thank you for calling me here.”
“I doubt you'll say that so glibly once you've learned the whole of it.”
“Am I to find out today? Will you finish lecturing, scolding, and updating me before tomorrow comes?”
That brought a tremendous smile to Kymee's face. “Yes. We shall find how detached and impartial you presently are. Wrath says he has detected multiple warp signatures. He's uncertain how distant they are or who generated them. He does, however, believe there are few possible candidates as to who created the signals.”
Yibitriander's entire body slumped, as if weighed down by several oceans of water. His face went blank, as did his mind. Only his primal, raging emotions seemed to hear those words. His blood boiled in his veins, and his hatred sprang from dormancy like it had never slept.
“I mark,” Kymee said, “that you understand the implications of Wrath's report.” Seeing that Yibitriander was mentally absent from the room, Kymee reached over and shook him. “Are you okay, boy? I've told you matters are unsettled, not that they are to end in a matter of heartbeats.”
“All that we've become…all…all that we've struggled to become for an eternity cannot be…be voided. It cannot happen!”
“That which happens, happens, whether you agree with it or not. Reality, it turns out, does not rely your acceptance as a necessary condition of its existence.”
“But…but nothing has changed. Nothing!”
“If nothing has changed, then we've wasted a lot of time, haven't we?”
Yibitriander forced himself to calm, to return to where he'd rested for untold time. He failed. “Father, if the worst possible outcome has occurred, what shall we do? Shall we do anything?”
“I'm not done ruining your day, son. Wrath reports that the warp signatures are now headed directly toward Hodor.”
Yibitriander was overwhelmed. He experienced a panic he had not felt for longer than he could recall. No. His actions could not have sparked this firestorm. It was simply and completely impossible.
Wait! His mind raced. He didn't summon the return of the damned. No. If the Berrillians had returned, it was not of his doing. Or was it? They had parted company with the Deavoriath in defeat and disgrace, and that had been his doing almost singlehandedly. If they were back, seeking vengeance after all this time, surely it was he they sought to find more than any other.
Yes, Yibitriander had fitted the android with control prerogatives. If he had not, Wrath would have remained hidden, and the Berrillians, if that was who was out there, would have blithely sailed away as they seemed to have been doing. Jon Ryan would surely have failed on any number of occasions if not for him. If nothing else, the Uhoor would have wiped Hodor clean of that new colony without Wrath. Good versus bad, right versus wrong, justice versus retribution. Why were they always hurled at him like flaming knives? Why could he not know rest?
“Would you like me to leave you two strangers alone?” asked Kym
ee.
“Huh?” Yibitriander scanned the sparse room. “Whom do you refer to?”
“You and your conscience, of course. The two of you seem to be having an arm-wrestling match with all three arms.” Kymee smiled faintly. “We shall see what will happen. For now, at least, we have no control over any outcome.” He breathed slowly and deeply, staring at Yibitriander. “We may need to call a general meeting.”
“A what?” asked Yibitriander. “There's been no such gathering in an eternity. Why would we need one? If the Deavoriath need to consider a matter as a people, we can do it as the one we are—mentally linked.” He was stunned at the suggestion. “As we speak, everyone knows what we do. As we each feel, so does the whole.”
“Time may be catching up with us,” Kymee said. “If this is to be our final crisis, I think we should face it shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, as the Deavoriath have always done. I swear that's what made us so strong.” He gestured around the room. “It was never our toys or our esoteric technology that made us masters. Neither was it the weakness of our enemies. I haven't forgotten the power that it is to be Deavoriath! If we elect to act, to allow others to die, or to perish as a race, we will do it the old way. Together as one!”
Yibitriander felt his guts tumble as they had not in forever. Had he called for the beast to awaken? Was it his one foolish act that would release the plague that the Berrillians, let alone the Deavoriath, were capable of unleashing upon a slumbering universe? How could his nature have not changed from all the time, the effort, and the painful lessons of the past? How could he justify not just his act, but his existence? Doubt and self-loathing clashed like Titans in his head.
Hand-wringing and self-flagellation would solve nothing. Neither hindsight nor remorse would extricate a single soul in harm’s way from a nightmare no one deserved. Well maybe only the Berrillians and the Deavoriath deserved such harsh fates.
TWENTY-TWO
As Toño and I walked into Amanda's office, she rose, smiled, and said, “It's wonderful to see you two so soon.” She couldn't conceal her pregnancy at that juncture even if she wanted to. She extended a hand.
“Yeah, Gramps,” Heath said with a straight face, “good to see you’re still up and about at your age.”
First me, then Toño plopped into chairs without shaking hands or responding to the cheery greeting. That brought an exchange of confused looks between the president and vice president. They both sat, frowns on their faces.
As soon as they had, I spoke. “Look, I’m sorry for the lack of notice and cordiality. We come with bad news, worse than any humankind has ever received.”
Amanda smiled awkwardly. “I’m sure,” she tried to lighten the mood, “it couldn’t be as bad as the destruction of Earth.”
“We survived,” Heath added. “Can't be worse than that.”
I looked to Toño. The scientist shook his head and said, “Yes, it can be. Immensely worse, in fact.”
“I'm afraid to ask, but,” Amanda replied, “maybe you should just tell us what threat we face.”
I drew a deep breath and sighed it out. “We've detected signals of what is likely an alien fleet that altered course and is heading straight toward us.”
“Okay,” Heath said, “I'll admit that sounds bad. Are these hostile aliens?”
“The word hostile,” Toño responded, “falls considerably short of describing their evil, destructive nature.”
“But,” Amanda said as calmly as she could, “you don't know it's who you suspect, right? It could be anyone.”
“I'm beginning to believe we're not nearly that lucky, Mandy,” I said. “Toño and I have been over the possibilities with the cube, and we are, unfortunately, quite certain we face a Berrillian attack fleet.”
“Berrillian?” repeated Amanda. “I've never heard of them.”
“They've been gone a very long time,” said Toño. “If the vortex is correct, and we believe he is, they're back for revenge.”
“Wait, wait,” said Heath. “They can't possibly be mad at us. We've never encountered them, let alone pissed them off.”
“They don’t have a bone to pick with us,” I replied. “They had a longstanding, unbelievably brutal war with the Deavoriath. The Berrillians are here to settle with them.”
“Jon,” began Amanda, “we're both a bit confused.” She gestured to Heath. “We've never heard of either of these races. How are we involved?”
“Millions of years ago,” began Toño, “this galaxy was ruled by an advanced civilization called the Deavoriath. At the height of their power, they were harsh, unyielding, and above all, unmatched in technology. Though all races were their enemies, few were nearly as capable and relentless as they were. The Berrillians were the most closely matched. They fought with each other on scales that are hard for us to comprehend. In the end, the Deavoriath were victorious. The Berrillians were lucky enough to flee before being totally wiped out. It would seem the Berrillians have returned to take up where things left off.” To himself he muttered, “Presumably they have enough new toys to fancy a better chance this time.”
“How exactly does that involve us?” asked Heath. “Since we don't know squat about the Deavoriath, they must be far away from here, if they even still exist. We have no beef with the Berrillians.”
“Yes and no,” I said. “The Deavoriath are still around, and they're actually close by. They're the ones who gave me these.” He wiggled his fingers. “The vortex is theirs too. If the Berrillians are hunting their old friends, they'll come right to our doorstep.”
“Even if the Berrillians couldn't find the Deavoriath, they pose us a significant threat. Unless they've radically changed their ways, they're a conquering species. They were, the vortex manipulator tells us, much worse than the Deavoriath in every negative quality. They killed for the joy of it, they crushed planets for sport, and they had absolutely no concept of humanity or mercy. They were the masters of destruction, straight out of the gates of hell,” Toño added.
“That does sound bad,” said Amanda. “When will they arrive?”
“Unclear,” replied Toño. “They are moving at faster than the speed of light by using warp field propulsion. There's no way to determine how fast they're traveling or precisely how far way they actually are. Our best estimate is that they should arrive in a month, maybe slightly longer.”
“One month!” shouted Heath. “Are you trying to suggest the ultimate killing machines in the galaxy will be here in thirty days?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” replied Toño.
“But,” Heath responded, “that's preposterous. We can't be annihilated in a month's time.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Heath rubbed his scalp so hard it hurt. “That's just not possible—not fair.” He looked at the other three and lowered his head. “Kind of stupid of me to say that, wasn't it? What's fair ever had to do with anything?”
“Are we able to defend ourselves?” asked Mandy. “We have rail cannon, membranes, and the vortex. Surely that's a potent combined force.”
“I've learned what I can from the vortex manipulator,” said Toño. “Using that data, I've run simulations—lots of simulations.”
“And,” she asked, leaning slightly forward.
“And we're pretty screwed,” I finished. “The rail guns might be minimally effective, but only at best. Similar technology was familiar to the combatants back then, so we have to assume they have effective countermeasures. The membranes themselves didn't exist back then, but they're purely defensive in this setting. No matter how strong a castle's walls are, a persistent foe will defeat the people inside sooner or later.”
“And the vortex?” asked Heath. “That's one hell of a weapon.”
“Yes, it is. But a million years ago, the Deavoriath flew thousands of them and only just defeated the Berrillians. One vortex is simply not enough to hold off an invasion force of this magnitude. Assuming they do have powerful new toys, the vortex will be totally overmatched.”
“But,” Heath said quickly, “you don't know the size of the fleet out there, do you? How can you know we're basically defenseless?”
“Our estimates are based, historically, on their style of warfare as well as rough approximations based on the magnitude of the warp signatures.”
“And,” I said, “the sons of bitches must have some powerful new toys to march so openly back into Deavoriath territory. One vortex back then would have been insufficient. It's probably just a bad joke now.”
“This sounds as bad as it can be.” Amanda's face grew hard and determined. “What's our plan? What, General Ryan, are we to do?”
“I have no fucking clue, Madam President.” I sighed and rolled my shoulders. “We can throw everything we’ve got at them, sure. But I think we'll be interstellar dust real fast.”
“There has to be a better option,” insisted Amanda. She was imperial in her outrage. “We haven't faced all these challenges and overcome so much to sit on our hands and beg for mercy that will never come. There must be some defense or evasion that will keep at least some of us safe.”
Toño and I sat in silence, neither of us willing to meet her eyes.
“I think that's your answer,” said Heath. He then spoke harshly, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “I guess our fleet will have to fashion our own defense without Azsuram's help.”
“Look,” I said quietly, “just because this may be hopeless doesn't mean we need to start fighting amongst ourselves. There's one upside for the worldship fleet.”
“I'll take anything I can get,” replied Amanda. “What?”
“They'll hit us first. You'll learn something about their intention and capabilities from that. Hopefully, that is. Assuming they blow through us, they'll be on you within a day or two.”
“That does not make me feel better,” she chided me. “What about the Deavoriath? Maybe they will emerge from hiding and help.”
“Unlikely,” I said. “They've gone to a lot of effort to remain hidden. I doubt they'll do anything.”
The Forever Fight: The Forever Series Book 3 Page 14