by Nick Webb
“So you are one of these Funders, then.” She settled back in her chair. “You say they contributed ‘substantially’ to the project, but none of the rest of them reached out to me as you did, did they? None of the others gave me intelligence, or even funds to help feed and clothe the fleet. Combined with the fact that the fleet is now gone … I can only assume they had other plans for it. What were those?”
Nhean was stopped in his tracks. He continually underestimated this woman’s ability to go to the heart of the matter. His own worries were laid bare here. What had the other members of the Circle wanted? Had they truly believed, all along, that they could command the fleet better than Laura Walker and take on the Telestines, or had they built it only to defend themselves and their wealth?
Every normal, basic instinct screamed to back away from this avenue of discussion rather than risk an unexpected sympathetic moment with her. There was an element of wounded pride as well: he should have asked harder questions over those years. But Nhean had honed better instincts than the ones he was born with. He knew when to take a hit in order to win a larger battle.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. He let his surprise show through. “It never occurred to me that they would try to command the ships on their own. I wasn’t aware of their plan to steal the ships. And even now, I believe their only goal is to force you to pay special attention to defending their interests.”
“Yes.” Her voice was dry. “Very convenient, your regret. So why are you helping them now?”
She was mimicking his techniques back at him, and Nhean found that he did not like it.
“Where’s Delaney?” he asked. “Sent him away, did you? For fear of what I might say?”
This sort of jab was beneath him, and did nothing to advance his cause, but he found he did not want to stop himself.
And then, when her smile flickered but did not fade, that there was a deeper wound to pick at.
“Or was it not Delaney who was there with you when I first called? Was it not him you sent away, but instead someone whose opinion of your plans would be less … professional?”
Her hands tightened around the armrests of her chair, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction. So it had been Pike who was there. He could only hope the man was slowly chipping away at her confidence in her suicidal endgame.
They needed her back on their side.
“Say what you will,” she said quietly, “but he is here. He knew better than to back you.” Her voice strengthened. “He knows that I will free us from the Telestines.”
Nhean opened his mouth to respond, but felt the anger drain away from him.
This bickering got them nowhere. He let his head drop back for a moment, eyes closed, and then he looked at her. He met her eyes, and he told the truth.
“Believe it or not … so do I. And I do not think the Funders have the skill to do the same. That is why I am setting up this conversation between you.”
It caught her off-guard. “What?”
“They did not tell me what they had done until the ships arrived,” Nhean told her bluntly. “Again, believe it or not as you choose, but I am speaking the truth when I say that they feared I would not back them. And I am speaking the truth when I say that I do not think they have a commander worthy of the fleet—as much as you and I differ on what it means to be free of the occupation … you have the capability to destroy our enemies. They do not.”
She looked down again. He saw her throat work as she swallowed.
“This is not an appeal to your vanity,” Nhean told her bluntly. “You know that you are a good commander and tactician, as do I. There is nothing to be gained by me saying it to stroke your ego.”
“Then why are you saying it?” She was wary.
As well she might be, he supposed.
“Because I do not want to die,” Nhean said. “I want to see Earth before I pass, and I want it to be my home. I want to be buried in Cambodia. I could support the fact that they took the fleet from you, given your goals. But they do not know your goals. Their reasons for taking it are not valid, and their plans are not complete. They endanger us more than you do at this point.”
“So you would use me to defeat them, and once the fleet is whole, you will have me removed so that you can command it.” Her guess was delivered with a bitter smile. “Or will you let them kill me instead, and have it the other way around? Will they fire on my ship while I approach, or will they look me in the eye and kill me face to face?”
“They will not kill you,” Nhean said flatly. “That, I made sure of. I would never have agreed to put you in contact if that were their plan.”
She looked taken aback by his vehemence. “Are their fears well founded, then? Do you have some affection for me after all?”
“Call it what you want.” He shrugged. “Call it morals. Call it the idea that I know I can never staff the fleet over again, and I know I can never command their loyalty if I have you assassinated. Call it expediency.” If he were being honest, he was not entirely sure which of those was the most true. He shook his head slightly. “Whatever you call it, I made sure it was not their plan to kill you before I agreed to set this up.”
Believe it or not as you will.
That was what it came down to, now: whether she could believe him.
She studied his face for a long moment.
“I do not want to die,” he told her again. “These people here would doom everyone simply because they are used to having what they want and they cannot accept that the fleet will not protect them first, even though they have the biggest bank accounts. Do you understand that?”
Something sparked in her eyes, an answering fear. She looked, he thought, as if she agreed and did not want to.
“I do not want to die.” He repeated the words another time, softly and frankly.
“You haven’t answered me,” she told him finally. She looked up. “We have a common purpose for now, but in the end, we will have to reckon with … the other matter.” Her emphasis on the word reminded him once again of her true goal: render Earth uninhabitable for Telestine and human alike. “Why should we join forces? Because it is all well and good not to have an assassin waiting in the shadows, but surely you know it will come to that. You will have to kill me to keep me from my purpose.”
“I hope not.” The words were honest. “I would rather change your mind.”
She laughed. “You won’t. Humanity belongs in the stars. Not chained to a single planet. Or even the idea of a single planet. The only thing the Telestines have done for us is to teach us that is too risky. No. You won’t change my mind. Not a chance.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Nhean shrugged again. “So let me offer this: do you think I am better able to save humanity than the Funders Circle? Do you think I would pick a better fleet admiral than they would, if you were dead and gone?”
“Who would you pick?”
“Min. Or Delaney.”
Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.
“If you think I would inevitably doom us,” Nhean said quietly, “then you have nothing to gain by working with me. But if you think I am better, if you think either you or I would indisputably be a better commander than they could find—then work with me to unite the fleet, and we will settle our differences later. Come to Neptune. New Vatican Station. Let’s talk. I think you might find that the Funders Circle responds favorably to reason. Especially … if you can commit to defending their interests in the coming war.”
Coming war? Good God, Nhean, war is upon us. She took her time before answering.
“I will be back in contact,” she said finally. “I will make a decision, and I will be back in contact.”
He had to admit he would do the same—leave her hanging when he’d in fact already made up his mind, which he could tell she had. Nhean nodded silently and ended the call, only to hear the beep of another incoming message the next moment. He looked over, annoyed.
And froze.
&nb
sp; The girl looked up with a raised eyebrow. She still preferred to convey small things with her expression, rather than go through the trouble of speaking.
“It’s Tel’rabim,” Nhean said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Earth
Telestine London
Most High Command Center, Tertiary Level
He paced as he waited for the call to be answered. Around him, the vaulted ceilings of the library rose gracefully to the sky.
This was the sort of place he belonged: elegant, refined. Untouched by humanity.
This planet should be theirs and theirs alone. He refused, absolutely, to feel guilty for taking Earth, and he refused to feel ashamed of his anger that humanity still lived as leeches on Telestine society. What could they have accomplished if they had not wasted their time feeding the humans, clothing them, housing them … crushing their inevitable, tiresome, costly rebellions?
They hadn’t had the courage to chase the humans down or leave them to die in the black. Even their cities, set above the ruins, had an aura of being temporary. As if they did not own the planet they now inhabited.
It was weakness. And he would no longer tolerate those who encouraged it.
When they were dead, the calls for his resignation would die with them. The Telestines would see what they had gained, and be grateful for what he had done to get it.
He looked over his team, each poring over thousands of records. Ka’sagra’s hand had become evident in the destruction of Denver and Tokyo, and now … now he knew that there was something she did not want him to find. She had a plan, and she believed he could thwart it if he found something in the archives.
But what? He did not have the first idea where to look, and his efforts to find the priestess herself were unsuccessful.
And so he must call on one of the very people he hoped so much to destroy—the one who would still have access to the Dawning.
Despite everything, creating that was still his proudest accomplishment.
The line clicked on.
“Hello.” Nhean’s voice came down the line, smooth and assured, yet nevertheless with the tone Tel’rabim had come to interpret as “reserved.” It seemed to be this human’s default tone.
Not for the first time, he wished he could peer inside the human’s head. Mind-to-mind communication was altogether simpler, in his opinion. It was more difficult to hide one’s true thoughts.
More difficult—and yet, as Ka’sagra had proved, not impossible.
“I assume you have had time to consider my theories,” Nhean said, when Tel’rabim said nothing more.
“Yes,” Tel’rabim said shortly. “And although you raise many intriguing questions, we are still short on answers. Most pressing: how and when would Ka’sagra attempt to do this?” He paused. “If, of course, you are correct.”
The trick now lay in convincing Nhean that the problem could not be solved without moving the Dawning to Earth. Tel’rabim had no intention of letting any human live when this was all over—but he would certainly allow a temporary alliance, built on Nhean’s instinct for self-preservation.
Tel’rabim breathed quietly. First, he told himself, Ka’sagra. Then humanity. First, Ka’sagra.
***
“Most pressing: how and when would Ka’sagra attempt to do this?” Tel’rabim paused. “If, of course, you are correct.”
It was an attempt to keep Nhean from controlling the conversation, but Nhean knew that Tel’rabim already believed him.
What other theory, after all, explained everything Ka’sagra had done? What other theory explained why the Telestines’ sun had so suddenly, so unexpectedly, gone nova? They were a species with FTL, with generation ships that could carry them across the stars—and with the technological capability to build those things quickly enough to survive the disaster in their home system.
Deep down, some of them must have wondered why they didn’t see the nova coming.
He opened his mouth to tell Tel’rabim his theories … and closed it again. Now was a dangerous moment, one in which he would be tempted to trust. Alliances were good, but trust was less so—especially when it came to someone like Tel’rabim.
“I hoped you might have a better idea than I would,” he said mildly. “Being Telestine as well, and having observed Ka’sagra for more time, I assumed you would be better placed to determine her plan. Humanity does not have the technology to make a sun go nova.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
At his side, just out of sight—in case the video should come on—the girl had her head bowed and her palms skimming over a piece of that damnably nondescript Telestine technology. Nhean wondered briefly what she was doing, and decided not to interfere.
“I cannot guess at her plan,” Tel’rabim said simply, and maddeningly. “I am searching the archives at London for an idea of what technology she might remember and use.”
Nhean’s brows rose sharply. “The archives?”
“Yes.” Tel’rabim sounded impatient.
“Why London?” Curiosity, nothing more. He had no idea how the Telestines had chosen the places for their cities.
Tel’rabim ignored that. “The answer must be here.”
“Why do you say so?”
The Telestine ignored that, as well. Most Telestines talked to humans this way—hardly acknowledging what was said and plowing on ahead with whatever was on the Telestine’s mind. Nhean often wondered if it was because they could not see inside a human’s mind the way they could see within each other’s in order to truly exchange ideas. “What she plans to make use of, however, I cannot guess. So much is archived there.”
Whatever else he learned from this conversation, at least he’d learned this. Could it be that Telestines, when they are through using a technology, at least temporarily, they just … archive it? It had not occurred to him that they would have to turn to archives in order to determine what technologies were used—but, then again, it made sense. Without knowing how the nova had been created, one would have to comb through likely-looking areas of research and development.
Nhean steepled his fingers under his chin and frowned at the comm unit. “Could we narrow the search by looking just at technology currently employed by the Daughters of Ascension? Or, perhaps, your military?”
“They do not have technologies that could be useful for this. We need few of the things we used for our life on our home planet—or for our … what is your word for it? Ah, yes: exodus.” The Telestine’s voice was wry. “Our wars within our species were more demanding of us than our war against your kind.”
Nhean’s eyes narrowed speculatively.
The jab was not important. It was not important at all. What was important was the mention of wars. Wars usually meant bombs. Tel’rabim, though not an engineer, nonetheless had zeroed in on military technology as the cause of the nova.
Nhean had been asking himself for a while where a group of clerics had found the technology to make star-destroying explosives, but that might not be important. Wherever they had gotten it to start with, it was now in the archives at London—along with a great deal of other technology.
Technology that might, for instance, show them how to defuse those bombs remotely.
Tel’rabim spoke as Nhean’s mind was still racing. “Ka’sagra’s plan is important, but if what you say is true, we should also find her. She clearly does not yet have every piece she needs for her plan—again, should you be correct about what it is—but she will be active in gathering them. Finding her may eliminate the need to discover the plan itself.”
Nhean nodded silently before remembering that his video was not turned on. “Yes. Of course.” He did not trust that Ka’sagra would make herself indispensable to the plan. She would have one or two close associates to carry out the rest, in case something should happen to her.
But the truth could be tortured out of her, if nothing else.
“To be blunt,” Tel’rabim continued, “you and I both know that right
now we are in a war that will end with only one species alive. But what is the point of being the winner if we are only destroyed by Ka’sagra soon after? I am willing to suspend hostilities—if we can come to an agreement and join forces to search for her.”
Nhean considered this. With the fleet fractured, it was clear that humanity needed a cessation of hostilities. They could not win as things stood now. “Tell me more. Do you have a plan for finding her?”
When Tel’rabim spoke again, his voice was smooth as silk. “I do, but I need a rather wider net to search through our systems. I had that tool at my disposal once.”
Understanding hit Nhean and he felt his lips curve. “You want the Dawning back.” Of course. Of course, Tel’rabim would ask for this.
On the floor, the girl’s head jerked up. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
“I need the Dawning back.” Tel’rabim’s voice was still smooth. “Nothing else allows such access to the old systems.”
There was something there, something that hinted at larger troubles than Tel’rabim perhaps wanted to admit.
His grip on Telestine society was not very strong, Nhean sensed. Were members of the old military structure still opposing him? Whatever the case, some things were absolutely clear: first, on the off-chance that Nhean could solve this problem before he did, Tel’rabim intended leave a trail of breadcrumbs that might lead Nhean to the truth; second, he had absolutely no interest in sharing the solution when it was found; and third, this was just an excuse, however timely, to ask for the girl back.
He spoke before his mind entirely caught up with him.
“Yes, I see. I’ll send her back, then.”
***
Tel’rabim stared at the comm unit.
He could not possibly have heard that correctly.
“And what,” he asked precisely, “has made you decide to return it after all this time?”
Ruined, most likely. All the work he had done, all of the careful planning, the gene splicing and technology integration that had taken hundreds of hours to test and months to perfect on his final subject, and the machine was likely broken now. He had no idea how, of course.