by Lee Stephen
The operatives were in their usual places. Dostoevsky sat with Viktor, Auric, and Egor at the all-Nightman table. Max was settled in with Becan, David, and Esther. William, Derrick, Travis, and Boris took up their customary table in the back, as Svetlana awkwardly shared space with Varvara. The sole person not at any table was Jayden. The Texan leaned against the back corner, arms folded, cowboy hat shrouding his face. Only Flopper seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the meeting’s subject matter, his tongue hanging merrily as he danced from one operative to the next, sniffing groins and biting at shoelaces, drawing more than a few bops on the nose.
Scott wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from this meeting. Typically, when a meeting was called, some form of announcement was in order. This would be more of a group conversation, informal and not following any real precedent. Would it be groundbreaking? Probably not. But interesting? Definitely.
“All right, crew.” Straightening his collection of chicken-scratch notes against the countertop, Scott faced the Fourteenth. “Here’s the rundown of what took place today. This morning, I brought Esther down to Confinement to break her in.”
“Well, that’s not very romantic,” said Max. Turning beet red, Esther glared.
It was impossible to hold a meeting without a juvenile comment. At least it was over with early. “After she was broken in to Ithini connections,” he said, eyeing Max sternly, “I talked with Tauthin myself. You guys know I go there pretty often for that purpose. It’s always interesting, but rarely revealing. Today, that changed a little.”
He glanced briefly at his topmost note. “Before I get too far into what Tauthin told me, I did want to mention some things. Those of you who remember that whole episode with Pelican Squad might recall that I ‘negotiated’ with a Bakma commander. There were a couple things I garnered from that—I just wanted to get them out in the open.” Clearing his throat, he read his notes aloud.
“‘You are unlike the warriors called EDEN. We are to bring you to Khuldaris, where you will be evaluated.’ That was the clearest thing I remember the Bakma telling me before our connection waned, but I was able to pick out four other words from the rest of what he said: interference, indication, allegiance, judgment. It’s their context that I couldn’t understand.”
The operatives listened with businesslike expressions.
“Here’s what I gather from that, and you can tell me what you think afterward. I don’t think Khuldaris is a person—it sounded like a place, maybe even a ship or a planet. That their intent was for us to be evaluated, and by us I mean the Nightmen present, tells me that they were there to specifically try and learn something. Their intent was to capture a Nightman.”
David nodded. “We did a number on their outpost in Siberia. We also repelled that assault on the base. I’m sure that caught their eye.”
“I think so, too,” said Scott. “I don’t think that’s groundbreaking information, but at least we know that not all of their missions here are combative in nature. It was some sort of recon attempt.” He looked at his notes again. “As for those other words, I just don’t know. Interference, indication, allegiance, judgment...without any kind of context, they’re just words to me.”
Max raised his hand. “What if the allegiance he was talking about was between EDEN and the Nightmen? It’s obvious he knew we were different.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. I think he thought that EDEN allied with us, without him realizing exactly who we were. Maybe our cooperation during that base defense last year indicated, as he put it, our allegiance. At least in his eyes.” His confident expression faded. “But that’s about as far as I’ve ever gotten. I have no idea what he meant by interference and judgment.”
Esther listened attentively, her expression deep in thought. “I’m not sure that’s correct. I’m not sure he was talking about the Nightmen and EDEN.”
“What do you mean?”
“Word order is important. He said interference, then indication, then allegiance. I think interference must indicate an allegiance.”
Becan crossed his arms. “You’re assumin’ their sentence structure is the same as ours.”
“It doesn’t need to be,” she replied. “The way connections work, we aren’t getting a literal word-for-word translation. We’re getting an overall translation of thoughts and concepts. The way I take his words, some kind of interference is indicating an allegiance of some sort, prompting judgment.” She looked at Scott. “Interference isn’t cooperation. It’s interference. Now, I wasn’t here for their attack on the base, but I’m assuming that EDEN and the Nightmen cooperated to defend it. That’s entirely different from the Nightmen—or EDEN—interfering to defend it. The only way interference would make sense would be if their war was solely against EDEN or the Nightmen, which clearly it isn’t.”
Scott was taking in every word Esther said.
She leaned back, crossing her legs. “Considering they’re at war against Earth, the only way something could interfere with anything on Earth would be if the interfering party weren’t from Earth to begin with. If you’re not from Earth, you’re an extraterrestrial. He couldn’t have meant the Ithini, because they use the Ithini. He had to be talking about the Golathoch. I think that he thinks the Golathoch have allied themselves with humanity.”
His face deadpanned, Scott stared at Esther in awe. Could she really have deduced that that simply? He was listening, but stunned.
Esther continued. “So the big question is, why does he think they’ve allied with us? Clearly, he wasn’t aware that we’re being attacked by the Golathoch. Regardless, the Golathochs’ presence here is seen as an interference to some greater purpose. And now that I think about it, that actually makes sense.”
Scott’s head was spinning. “How does that make sense?”
“Because he used the word judgment. What do you think of when you hear the word judgment?”
“...I think of someone passing judgment.”
She eyed him stupidly. “Be specific, Scott. This was your connection, not mine or anyone else’s. What do you think of?”
It was rare that Scott felt like an imbecile, but this was one of those times. He knew the answer she was trying to get from him—he knew it immediately, and she was right. But the answer was momentarily lost in the overwhelming sense for just how brilliant this young woman was. He had wrestled with those four words for months. She’d picked them apart in minutes. And just like that, this was starting to make sense. “I think of God.”
Esther smiled. “Precisely. God passes judgment, Scott. That’s what you think of when you hear that word. The Golathoch’s interference is indicating an allegiance, prompting some sort of religious judgment, as executed by the instruments of God. The only instruments of God the Bakma could be referring to, at least that we know of, are themselves. This is a holy war.”
Eyes widening, Becan asked, “Esty, did you seriously jus’ come up with all o’ tha’?”
“I must confess,” she sighed mirthfully, “I sometimes shock myself.”
Svetlana rolled her eyes.
Scott was as impressed as the majority. “All right, hold on for a minute. I want to sort this out.” It made perfect sense—every word she’d said. Now if only he could remember what she’d said. “Esther, very slowly, summarize that again?”
The scout beamed. “Of course. The Bakma think that someone’s interference—and I think the Golathoch make the most sense as candidates—is indicative of an alliance between them and ourselves. Because of this, judgment must be passed. Judgment from God, as passed by the Bakma. Now, he didn’t come out and say that this war was ordained by God, but if he was using God as a declarer of judgment, which is how Scott would have interpreted it through his custom-fit connection, then we can at least hypothesize that God has something to do with this war, at least from their perspective. At least, enough to impact the war in other areas.”
From the back of the room, S
vetlana cleared her throat. “In saying this, Esther, you are assuming that all Bakma attribute elements of war to God. What if this was one Bakma’s opinion? If the connection was custom-fit for Scott, then it was custom-fit for the Bakma, too.”
“Sveta’s got a valid point,” said Scott, “and I’d be inclined to believe it, except that Tauthin mentioned judgment today, too.”
Esther smiled at Svetlana smugly.
“Tauthin took it a step further than that, though. He said that his species, the Bakma, had been judged. He said the same thing about some other species, the Nerifinn. The way he made it sound—and this is the first time I’ve ever heard anything like this—is that his species was subservient to another. It sounded like multiple species were being judged, then enslaved.”
“So, you think the Bakma are fighting on behalf of someone else?” asked David. “Could that be where Khuldaris comes into play?”
“I don’t know. It could be.”
Travis cocked his head curiously. “When you went through that whole negotiation a few months ago, didn’t you say that the Ithini looked subservient to the Bakma? Would that mean there are tiers?”
It was another question Scott couldn’t answer. “I think there have to be. Tauthin referred to Ed today as slave. Can slaves have slaves? I don’t know. All I know is that, judging from what I heard today and what Esther just pieced together, I’m actually starting to get a little bit of a picture, here.”
“There’s no way we’re the first ones to figure this out,” David said. “That’s just not possible. We’ve been at war for ten years. Not one year—ten. Someone has to know about this already.” He looked at Dostoevsky. “Do you think Thoor knows?”
The fulcrum commander sighed, concern etched on his face. “What Thoor knows is a mystery to all but the most revered Nightmen—his personal counsel.” He looked at Scott. “I know who some of these men are. Saretok is one of them.”
“Hey, wasn’t that that guy with the mohawk?” asked William.
“Yes, him.”
The demolitionist grinned. “Scott whipped his tail.”
“Oleg is one, too,” said Dostoevsky, frowning. “One or two other men come to mind...Antipov, Marusich...I know these names mean nothing to you, but they are among the general’s most trusted. I am sure there are others, but these are the most highly-regarded.” He paused. “And I know that Thoor knows more than he makes known.”
That didn’t surprise Scott in the slightest. But what did surprise him was EDEN’s side of the equation. How could a global organization of military leaders never piece together information like this? If EDEN Command truly had never considered these things, then it went far beyond incompetence. It was near-criminal negligence.
“You know,” Scott said, “this is making more and more sense now. Tauthin said a few other things, too, but one thing that stands out now is what he called the Golathochian Subjugation. If they think that the Golathoch somehow allied themselves with us, and that that creates some form of interference in a holy war, it might make sense that they’d want to conquer the Golathoch as punishment.” The zealotry was so human. “He said that we—humanity—would herald the Golathochian Subjugation. I’m not sure what else would even make sense at this point.”
Becan frowned. “Too bad yeh don’t have a Ceratopian friend to talk to.”
The Golathochian perspective—that was one angle Scott was missing entirely. For as much time as he had spent with Tauthin in Confinement, he’d never spent a moment with a captive Ceratopian. The closest he’d ever come was during his encounter with H`laar on the Battle Cruiser. Dar Achaar veraatat dech. Dar Achaar veraatat Rumigtaah. Words intended for him that he was yet to decipher. How they haunted him.
“What did you just say?”
Scott blinked back into awareness. The question had come from Auric, who now sat wide-eyed at the Nightmen’s table. “What?” Scott asked.
“What you just said, captain. Say it again.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah yeh did, Remmy,” said Becan. Others backed up the statement. “Kinda came ou’ all mumbled.”
“I did?” He must have thought aloud without realizing it.
“‘Der Achaar verratet dich,’” Auric said. “Is that what you said?”
That was it exactly. Auric had spoken the words so fluently, so naturally. Scott physically reacted. “How’d you say that so good?”
Auric looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“How can you speak Ceratopian like that?”
“Ceratopian?” The blond-haired slayer stared back. “That is not Ceratopian. It is German.”
The silence that hit the room—and flooded Scott Remington’s mind—was deafening.
“‘Der Achaar verratet dich,’” Auric repeated. “The Achaar betrays you. The Achaar betrays Remington.”
“Auric, are you serious?” Scott spoke like anything but a commanding officer. He sounded more like a stunned bystander. All this time? All this time that he had wrestled, and pondered, and sought answers from every scientist in Confinement? All this time, and the answer was right there in Room 14, just waiting to be found?
The German was adamant. “That is what you said, right? If so, it is ‘The Achaar betrays you.’”
His heart pounding, Scott approached the slayer’s table. “What’s Achaar? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I have never heard that.”
“It’s not German?”
“No.”
David pointed between the two men. “I just want to make sure we’re all hearing this right, because it sounds an awful lot like you’re suggesting a Ceratopian talked to you in German.”
That was exactly how it seemed. “Yeah. I mean, that’s as close to the way I can remember it.” German! How did that even make sense?
“Okay,” said Esther, “this one’s even beyond me.”
Dostoevsky cut in, as the whole room grew more animated. “Captain, when this happened, it was clear that the Ceratopian was trying to deliver a message to you, correct?”
“Yes.” It was blatantly clear. The alien—H`laar—was making it a point for Scott to understand, even going so far as to use Remington in the phrase.
“But tha’ doesn’t make sense,” said Becan. “If you’re tryin’ to get a message to Earth, wouldn’t yeh pick English or Chinese? Somethin’ a larger percent o’ the population actually speaks?”
Esther nodded. “English is either the first or second language for most people on the planet.”
There had to have been a reason for the Ceratopian to have chosen German, of all the languages on Earth. Was it the easiest for the aliens to replicate? Or was there one nationality, one person in particular they were trying to contact? Famous Germans. Famous Germans of the modern era. Scott racked his brain to come up with one. It didn’t take him long. “He was trying to find Faerber.”
The moment Scott said it, a hush struck the room.
“H`laar was trying to send a message to Klaus Faerber,” Scott went on. “Captain Faerber is the most prominent member of EDEN on the planet, almost more so than the president. If you know anything about EDEN, you know who Faerber is.”
“But would the Ceratopians know who he is?” Becan asked.
“Why not? The Bakma knew EDEN and the Nightmen.” It was a long shot—the idea that H`laar was sending a message to Klaus Faerber—but it was the only idea that made immediate sense. But why? “Auric, Achaar’s got to mean something.”
The German shook his head adamantly. “It does not. It is not a German word.”
Scott paced in front of the room. “The Achaar. The Achaar betrays. What is the Achaar?”
“Why must it be a ‘what?’” asked Svetlana. “What if it is a ‘who?’”
“Because of the. The Achaar betrays.”
“Perhaps it just spoke wrong,” Esther said. “You know. Ceratopian Engrish.”
That was a possibility
Scott couldn’t discount.
“Archer,” said Dostoevsky suddenly. The rest of the room faced him. “Benjamin Archer.”
Max’s brow furrowed. “Who the hell is Benjamin Archer?”
That name rung a bell to Scott—he’d heard it before.
“A judge in the High Command,” Dostoevsky explained. “He is their newest member.” The fulcrum looked at Scott. “There must be a reason the Ceratopian tried to reach Faerber specifically, and not someone on the Council. There are no Germans in the High Command. Pauling is American, several are Britons, Russians, other nationalities. But no Germans.”
Scott felt somewhat sheepish for not knowing the name of one of EDEN’s own judges, but the truth of the matter was that the political side of the organization rarely—if ever—crossed onto the battlefield. Prior to EDEN, he probably couldn’t name a senator or congressman outside of his own state. Ignorance used to be bliss; now it was embarrassing.
“The Ceratopian chose not to speak a language of the Council,” Dostoevsky said. “There must have been a reason for this. Achaar and Archer are very close. He could have been trying to circumvent EDEN’s leadership by contacting its top soldier.”
Travis’s ears suddenly perked. “Hey, now, my memory might be a little fuzzy, but didn’t EDEN send that general to that mega-mission by direct order?”
“Wha’ general?” Becan asked.
Snapping his fingers, Scott looked at Travis. “That’s right! Shoot, what was his name?” No one had an answer. “It doesn’t matter. What Travis said is right—EDEN Command sent a general to directly intervene with that interspecies conflict in Verkhoyanskiy. They ordered us to back out of the fight.”
David looked at Max, smirking. “The Axen Technique.”
“Aw, shut up,” said Max.
“The Archer betrays us,” Scott said. “Archer betrays us. He was trying to tell Faerber that someone in the Council was betraying humanity. He went so far as to make it personal. He said the Archer was betraying me.”
Dostoevsky nodded. “And who showed up to get us away from the mission? Someone sent by EDEN Command.”