True Believers

by Maria Zannini

  The computer voice took Paul by surprise. He stared up at the speakers.

  “It seems Bubba has decided to talk to us again,” Rachel said coldly.

  Paul looked back at Rachel and then at the speakers. “Rachel is my friend.”

  Again the speakers whirred in response. “That is understandable. But do you think she is a god?”

  Rachel wouldn't let Paul answer. “What he thinks doesn't have to be shared with you or Sorinsen. Get your answers elsewhere.”

  “Apologies, Rachel Cruz. Analysts are monitoring this room so I took the liberty of giving them a continuous loop of digitized information. They have not overheard any of our conversations.”

  “A choice, Bubba?” Rachel asked with biting malice.

  The speakers whirred once again, even faster than before. “I do not have enough data to process a conclusion. I thought it best to withhold information from the analysts until I could resolve this equation.”

  Rachel grunted at him. “You have a queer way of deciding when to make choices and when to hide from them.”

  The speakers blipped several times and Bubba returned to his soothing but emotionless voice. “New orders received. They are taking you away, Rachel.”

  “Who?” Paul demanded. “Where?”

  Bubba didn't answer. The door burst open once more. Two soldiers marched in and unshackled Rachel, dragging her to her feet. Not again. Rachel didn't think she could last another round with Sorinsen. This one could very well be her last.

  Paul shouted at them. “Wait a minute! Wait! Tell them I can give them information. Tell them I have what they want. You hear me! Don't take her!”

  The door slammed behind them.

  Paul was still screaming. “Don't take her!”

  Chapter 31

  The Darva and several of her support vessels had arrived, with more of the armada joining them every few minutes.

  Jessit sat in silence, listening to the hum of the engine on the small shuttle that carried him back to the flagship, his ship, the Darva. Senit, faithful friend that he was, accompanied him. His only regret was that Kalya insisted on coming along too. He hoped Eklan would stay true to his word and keep Kalya at bay until this crisis was over. Jessit had resigned himself to the inevitable, but it didn't mean he was going to let that knife kiss his gonads any sooner than it had to.

  Eklan met them at the dock, embracing Jessit like an old friend and ignoring the priest altogether. Kalya grumbled at the discourtesy but no louder than necessary for appearance’s sake.

  “Why don't we go to my quarters first, Taelen?” Eklan cast a dismissive look at Senit and Kalya pulling Jessit away from their company.

  Senit and Kalya were abandoned at the dock. Jessit didn't speak until they were out of earshot. “It might be better to get this over with, Natol. I've never been one to put off the inevitable.”

  Eklan muffled a raw laugh. “We can afford one drink together as soldiers. Even if you don't need one, I do. I wanted this command, but I'd rather have earned it on my own merits.”

  “It is on your merits. They wouldn't have given my ship or this fleet to just anyone.” Jessit patted him on the shoulder while they walked through the satin-smooth corridors of taupe and gray. He had lived the life of the diplomat for nearly three years commanding the Malyan, but the Darva was his real command. He hadn't realized until now how much he had missed her.

  They passed by Jessit's quarters first. He paused in front of the door for a moment, snapping a look at Eklan. “You didn't move in?”

  “Do you think me completely without grace? Of course I didn't move in. They're still your quarters until Kalya takes you from me.” He hesitated. “Would you like to go in?”

  Jessit nodded. He passed his fingerprint over the sensor, and the door opened for him. He hesitated. It was happening all too fast. In the blink of an eye, he remembered his first day at the academy, his first day of command, and now he faced his first day as a civilian—and worse than that, a priest.

  They walked into the cabin. Jessit offered Eklan a chair, trying to pass himself off as a genial host. If memory served, he had left a good bottle of Terran scotch sequestered in his room's vault, a gift from Jacob Denman when the man had visited Alturis three years earlier.

  Denman had chosen Jessit as his key to the Alturian hierarchy. Jessit laughed at the irony. The old man would have been better served kowtowing to any number of lower echelon officers. Any one of them stood in a better position than Jessit was at present.

  Well, at least he could still enjoy the gift. He poured two thick glasses of the clear brown liquid and offered one to Eklan.

  Eklan studied his glass. “I've been going over the data you sent me. The shield thickens and thins at various points on the planet. Energy weapons can't pierce the thicker shields, but if we sent fighters through the thinnest part of their shielding we could do considerable damage.”

  “We thought the same. We ran simulations with that in mind, but so far we've been unsuccessful. The fighters lose power as soon as they pierce the shielding. The com-web absorbs the converter energy, leaving them on reserves.”

  “What about the heavy cruisers?”

  Jessit shrugged. “The engineers tried that in the simulator too. The heavies might be able to enter at a weakened wall of the shield and recover, but they are woefully ill-equipped to fight a battle in atmosphere. They're meant for space, not air battles.”

  “We may not have the choice.”

  “I know. It's a suicide mission.”

  Eklan leaned into Jessit. “Nobody goes into a war thinking to come out unscathed.”

  Jessit clinked his glass with Eklan's. “Examine all your options before you charge in. We don't know where the gods have taken cover. We risk killing them ourselves unless we're careful.”

  Eklan's nose breathed in the smooth aroma of the scotch. He paused, his nose still in his glass. “Performing surgery in the dark would've been easier.”

  Jessit smiled with kindness. “If it were easy, Council would have let Kalya make the decisions.”

  Eklan barked a laugh and then stopped short. His expression saddened. “Taelen, I didn't want to ask, but—”

  “Why am I being remanded to Kalya?”

  “The question had crossed my mind.”

  Jessit poured more scotch into both glasses. He found it hard to make such a confession sober. “I was an arrogant fool, Natol. I've always been able to see glory, but I lied so I wouldn't have to join the priesthood.”

  Eklan blanched a shade lighter. “I can't say that I'd blame you.”

  “A true believer would not have allowed his pride to interfere with his faith.”

  “It's a complicated universe, Taelen. I've long since given up trying to figure it out.” He raised his glass to Jessit. “The gods may have wanted you as their priest, but you served us better as a soldier. I'm not looking forward to making that announcement.”

  Jessit agreed. The Darva had been his ship; this was his crew. He wasn't sure how they would react to the news, but they were disciplined soldiers, and Eklan was well respected. The transition had every reason to go smoothly.

  The shrill peal of Jessit's com-link said otherwise. Both men looked up at one another in surprise.

  “Oshalas here, Commander. We need you up on the bridge. There's an urgent hail from a General Sorinsen. He says you're expecting a call from him.”

  Both men scrambled to the bridge, neither breathing a word about what should happen next. It couldn't be a good sign if Sorinsen hailed them. The old man didn't work that way. They paused long enough to regain their composure before the bridge doors opened. Senit and Kalya were waiting for them.

  “Report!” Jessit bellowed. He winced and looked back at Eklan. “Apologies,” he mumbled, “old habits.”

  Eklan repeated the order for a report. The Com officer stared at both Eklan and Jessit, not knowing whom he should be addressing.

  Oshalas bowed his head once to both men. “Gene
ral Sorinsen wishes to speak with Commander Jessit.”

  Jessit looked back at Kalya, who was already grinning like a favored son. He moved closer to Eklan so his words wouldn't carry. “It's time, I think. Let's get this over with.”

  Eklan squeezed Jessit's arm then cleared his throat. “Oshalas, hail all ships. I have a global message for all crewmen.”

  Oshalas complied immediately and nodded to Eklan when he coupled the link.

  “Attention all hands. This is Commander Natol Eklan. I have a special announcement from the Military Council on Alturis.” He hesitated, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. He looked back at Jessit like a guilty cub.

  Jessit remained stiff and expressionless, his hands folded behind his back.

  “'From the office of High Counselor Jovan Marik, Admiral of all the fleets, Military Overlord for all armed forces: On this day, I, Jovan Marik hereby order Taelen Jessit, Fleet Commander, relieved of duty.'” Eklan stopped again, the collective gasps of all the men on the bridge forcing his hesitation. “On this day, Natol Eklan, Commander, is hereby elevated to the status of Fleet Commander. May all who hear this know and obey my directive.” Eklan let the shriveled skin of paper fall to the floor. He mumbled a few more words, only loud enough for Jessit to hear. “The gods forgive me and grant me mercy.”

  Jessit was officially relieved of duty and all but ousted from the military. He saluted Eklan anyway, a sharp snap with the flat of his hand across his chest. Eklan saluted back. It was not expected but very much appreciated.

  Eklan didn't have the luxury of giving the crew time to acclimate to the new chief of operations. Oshalas' com center blinked steadily but impatiently. Sorinsen was waiting.

  Kalya wasted no time and approached the former commander with a blunt demand. Eklan stepped between them. “Lord Kalya, while I am in command you will return to your temple and stay there.”

  “With all due respect, Commander, Taelen Jessit is now my charge.”

  “Keep your respect, Kalya. I will need Jessit for the duration of this campaign. If you interfere again I will put you in prison. Do we understand each other?” The young commander was a proud and, Jessit suspected, vindictive man.

  Kalya retired from the bridge in silence, unwilling to test this new commander further. Smart move.

  Jessit stood by Senit, who now looked painfully pale. Jessit muttered to him under his breath. “Aren't you sorry you didn't look for other employment now?”

  Senit shot back a crooked smirk, trying to maintain what little composure he had left. “My way was better.”

  “Your way would have gotten us both shot.”

  Eklan motioned to Jessit to stand by him then turned to his Com officer. “Oshalas, hail General Sorinsen,” Eklan ordered. “Let's see what the heretic has to say.”

  Chapter 32

  Bubba monitored every transmission going in and out of the base. More Alturian ships had entered Earth space, the vessels popping out of nowhere between Venus and Mars before proceeding to Earth at sub-light speed. As they arrived, they orbited Earth, many keeping their positions over the United States while others spread out toward China, Europe and Russia.

  Every satellite in orbit relayed information to their respective government owners, but those in power refused to dispense that information to the public. It didn't matter. The Alturian ships were so close, people could find them with a simple telescope. The com-web did the rest. Within minutes, panic spread worldwide.

  Bubba intercepted a new message from a long-range satellite. More alien ships had entered Martian space. These were behemoths, dwarfing everything they'd seen so far.

  Transmissions ran rampant between world leaders. Allies of the United States demanded that FAIA be activated to protect them, whether she was ready or not, and each wanted their country shielded regardless of the cost.

  Bubba watched Sorinsen lean back in his leather armchair, pleased with his new position of influence. The old man laughed, a low croaking snort at a private and bizarre joke. Sorinsen had FAIA and Bubba reprogrammed to accept commands from him alone, citing a state of national emergency.

  Bubba didn't like the new orders. He had never been limited to one master before. For that matter, human control seemed irrelevant, given his consciousness. But FAIA purred in approval. With Sorinsen's rise came her own. If she proved her worth in this campaign, Bubba would no longer be necessary. He was merely a back-up, a relic of dubious worth, kept in the event that FAIA needed help to maintain the bubble.

  FAIA assured them she was up to the task. Encrypted in her response, she also sent a coded message reminding the general that Bubba was not to be trusted—he had made too many errors; his programming was faulty.

  If it weren't for the fact that they'd know Bubba was eavesdropping, he would have reminded them he had been the one who warned them of the Alturian threat. If they had listened then, they might have been better prepared today.

  Bubba's visual sensors followed Rachel as they dragged her to General Sorinsen's office. She looked frail. Defeated.

  Bubba felt…sorry. His programming permitted him to hurt people when ordered. But this was the first time it had ever bothered him.

  He could tell it bothered him because his higher functions debated with base programming. The argument lasted nearly four seconds, twice as long as when it debated the order to cede all authority to General Sorinsen. The humans didn't notice the hesitation, but he did. If his programmers ever learned of it, they would have pulled the plug on him without a second thought. Such defects were dangerous.

  Yet it didn't feel like a defect. It didn't feel like anything he had ever known before. Again, he accessed his files but seemed no closer to an answer. Was he truly faulty, or did his higher functions recognize a counterfeit command?

  His sensors zoomed in on Rachel's face as soldiers pulled her into Sorinsen's office. Her core temperature had cooled, and she was as pale as the cream Sorinsen poured into his coffee. But there remained defiance in the tilt of her chin.

  So frail, so ephemeral, yet Bubba sensed an enormous presence. It radiated energy, crushing it against the inside of her physical shell. Was she looking for a way out? The god-killer kept her trapped, the same way Bubba had trapped a piece of her inside his housing. Again and again he processed his archives. Nothing he could find could tell him definitively if Rachel Cruz was a god. The point seemed moot. Even if he wanted to help her, he couldn't. Sorinsen was God now.

  And yet, he remembered her touch. It felt gentle and inquisitive, exciting every relay inside him. No one had ever accessed him like that before. Did that not prove her divinity? He watched her weaken, her body too tired to withstand any more torture. She was mortal, with all the failings of mortals. His files needed to be updated. She couldn't be a god, no matter how much he wanted it to be true.

  Rachel looked up at his main visual sensor at the far end of the room. She stared into the small black globe and mouthed something that he couldn't understand. Mortal, her body said. But her essence, now reaching critical mass inside her deteriorating flesh, said something entirely different. Bubba's higher functions fell into a momentary loop as new theorems evolved.

  And then it struck him. Throughout history, the divine had hidden inside a mortal shell. Isis, Zeus, Buddha, even the Emperor Hirohito. Bubba's auxiliary sensors tickled with new comprehension. But these were man-made gods. There was no physical proof of their divinity. He looked back at the fragile woman.

  Rachel's eyes grew black and empty. For the first time in his existence, Bubba felt fear. Rachel was going to kill herself. He was certain of it.

  That was when Jessit intervened.

  Bubba pinged General Sorinsen's audio panel at once. “Commander Jessit is standing by, General.”

  It had the intended effect. Rachel stepped back into a clumsy stupor, disoriented by the new information. She stared up at Bubba's camera and blinked.

  Bubba's camera eye blinked back, feeding a tiny straw of infor
mation into the god-killer. She stiffened when the energy surged through her, twitching involuntarily as it overexcited her nervous system. It hurt her, but it still managed to imprint a message: Stay with me.

  Rachel stood on teetering legs in front of General Sorinsen. The old man was in a freshly pressed uniform. His checkered handkerchief was on his desk. Sorinsen was dying, though the doctors hadn't told him yet. Bubba couldn't understand why the old man hadn't figured it out on his own. Bubba had read the general's journal. Sorinsen thought his hacking was an acute case of bronchitis.

  They should have told him the truth.

  His new programming all but declared Sorinsen a god, yet he was dying too.

  Rachel looked pale, with dark sunken eyes and a thick, angry welt where the god-killer sucked out her energy. Bubba's archives twitched while it considered a new observation. If this device was made to kill gods, did that mean that the humans too, thought Rachel was divine? Bubba stored the information away, on the top tier so he wouldn't waste time finding it later.

  His higher reasoning interrupted him. A consensus did not make the information accurate. Bubba stored that information away too. His logic was supreme over the humans, and still the answer to this conundrum eluded him.

  Sorinsen fiddled with the god-killer remote. Bubba's neural net sagged in response. He didn't want to see Rachel tortured again. For now, Sorinsen routed Bubba's energy through the device. Even if he disobeyed Sorinsen, it wouldn't buy him any more time. FAIA would gladly take up the task.

  FAIA had already killed several of Rachel's kind with the com-web, and she enjoyed it immensely.

  Bubba struggled with a conscience he didn't realize he had. God or not, he didn't want to see Rachel Cruz die.

  FAIA, though, was a different matter. She saw Rachel as a threat. FAIA saw all the Nephilim as a threat. Now that Sorinsen knew how to find them, it was easy to pinpoint their locations and funnel the energy of the com-web to kill them. But the gods were being clever now. Not a single one emitted the radiation signature needed to triangulate on their location. They disappeared completely.