by S. J. Madill
"Yeah," said Yaella. "Look—"
"Please tell us more," said the woman, interpreted by her baton. "We have questions. We are familiar with the Palani, and have heard of 'Human'. Is 'Human' a faction?"
The light flickering in the woman's eyes was distracting. "What?" said Yaella. "No. 'Human' is what the species is called."
The lights in the woman's eyes flickered. "We understood the species name was 'McLean-Irvine'."
Yaella sucked in a breath. Nsal 'neth. "They've been here?"
More flickering in the woman's eyes. "They have." Her lips moved for a few moments before the baton started translating. "Please share more information."
Yaella looked again at the flickering light. Maybe someone had taken control of the woman's brain; she had the distinct impression that others were listening in. "Uh, well… the species is called 'human'. They come from the same galactic arm as the Palani. McLean-Irvine is the name of a human corporation: an organization that that operates for monetary profit."
"Human." The officer said it again, seeming to chew on the sound. "We knew more would come."
Yaella frowned. "I'm sorry? I don't understand." For a moment, she felt like a curtain had been pulled back, letting her glimpse the galaxy's machinery turning right in front of her. "I'm just here to see the hybrids. Dual-species people, human and Palani, like me. I want to take them home."
"No. A commitment has been made."
"But…" she sputtered. "They're slaves. You can't—"
"You would insult us again?" The woman's expression hadn't changed. She stood, hands still clasped on the countertop, lights still flickering in her eyes. "The children of two branches were discarded by their people. We take them in, and give them a home. That is the commitment. There are no slaves here."
"But… I don't…" Yaella frowned at the woman across the counter from her. They aren't wrong. Hybrids were discarded by the Palani, and not accepted by the humans. But that didn't mean they could just be shipped around by the… "Wait," she said. "Wait. You say you have a commitment? With McLean-Irvine? But I thought everything was done through the Shard…" She wished the Admiral was here. Or her mom.
She tried to think it through. "Okay," she began slowly. "So… you had a deal — a commitment — with McLean-Irvine, through the Shard. But now McLean-Irvine has come themselves. They're cutting out the middle man?"
The flickering in the woman's eyes went on for several seconds before she began to speak. "McLean-Irvine threatened the Shard hive-station. The Shard revealed our location. McLean-Irvine came here. We now have a commitment with them."
Yaella stared at the woman. What was the 'commitment'? McLean-Irvine brings slaves, in return for advanced technology? Why on Earth would anyone agree to such a deal?
The doubts in her mind began to crystallize. The evidence was all around her: the single functioning screen behind a woman taking notes by hand in a physical 'book'. In a mostly-vacant space fortress, held together with patches.
They agreed because they had to. Were they losing their war against the extremists?
But there was something else. "There is another with me. Not Palani, not human, though similar—"
"Another species? I have no knowledge of this."
"We went to a planet with a crashed colony ship. There were bodies wrapped in your red cloth, and evidence of a gunfight."
Behind the counter, the woman didn't even blink. "I have no knowledge of this," she repeated.
"How can you say that?" said Yaella in disbelief. "All those bodies wrapped in red—"
"Wrapping the dead in retmel is consistent with our customs," said the woman. "But I have no knowledge of the incident you describe."
Yaella threw up her hands. "Oh, nsal 'neth," she sighed. How could they not know? Why should she believe anything anyone said? She'd come all this way to the Union, only to find the same bullshit as everywhere else.
She shook her head. Focus. She could almost hear her mom's voice. Don't give in to emotion. Remember your purpose.
She took a deep breath and sighed. "Please tell me where the hybrids are. That's where I'm going. I want to see them."
She stared at the woman, watching the rapid flickering of lights in her eyes. When the woman spoke, it was with the same lack of emotion. "Are you threatening us?"
"Do I need to?" She cringed a little at how heavy-handed she sounded.
After a few moments of stillness between them, the woman officer unclasped her hands and reached under the countertop. Her hand reappeared, holding a human-style datapad.
"What the…" sputtered Yaella. McLean-Irvine must have left it, so they could communicate with their new 'partners'.
The woman put the datapad down on the countertop and began to slowly, carefully, tap at its screen. "I am transmitting navigational data for the nearest world with two-species 'hybrids'. Go. Learn the truth for yourself." The woman looked up at Yaella. "There are no slaves here."
"Thank you. I will—"
"And then you must go. Leave our space forever."
Yaella pulled out her own datapad. Sure enough, she had received nav data for a previously-unknown system nearby.
She wanted to say something more, but what? The older woman studied her from behind the counter, eyes still lit with flickering light. She was probably just taking orders from whoever ran this fortress. Maybe she wasn't even thinking for herself right now. There wasn't any point in blaming her.
Yaella turned to leave. The younger officer who had led her here was waiting patiently at the door. She followed quietly as he began retracing their steps out to the landing bay; the Blue Guardian was still there.
Her crew was assembled at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for her. Ocean was pacing and fidgeting. "Well?" he asked, as soon as she was within earshot. "They lied, didn't they?"
"I don't think so, no—"
"You believed them?" Ocean stepped closer to her. "How could—"
"Okay, settle down," said Yaella. She raised a hand. "Look—"
"Settle down?" He was standing too close to her. "They killed my people, Captain! I should—"
"You shouldn't do anything," she said, irritation coming through in her voice. "Stop interrupting me, and let me finish."
Admiral Dillon sat on the ramp nearby, idly stroking his beard. The others weren't far away, all watching as Ocean resumed pacing.
"Okay," she began. "I think the Union is old. Very old. And they've got some advanced technology we've never seen before. Like this shit," she said, tapping a boot on a dull red patch on the deck, "They use it for everything. But there's a civil war going on, and they're having problems. We've all seen it, right? They've got all this fancy technology, but a lot of it doesn't work anymore."
"Interesting," said the Admiral. He sat still, fingers pinching the tip of his beard into a point. "Lost access to advanced materials? Maybe…"
"Listen," said Yaella. "This part of the Union had a deal with the Shard, who brought them hybrid slaves provided by McLean-Irvine. But this Union doesn't think of them as slaves; they think of them as immigrants. Like they're accepting refugees and giving them a home here."
"Maybe that's what they told you," scoffed Ocean.
Yaella shrugged. "I think it's what they tell themselves."
"People for technology," mused Dillon. "They need people, and in trade they're giving technology they can't build anyway."
"Huh," said Bucky. "They must really need people. But why hybrids?"
Yaella shook her head. "I don't know. Apparently, McLean-Irvine backstabbed the Shard. Threatened to blow up their station unless they revealed the Union's location. Now they've come here."
"Oh?" Dillon raised an eyebrow. "So McLean-Irvine's already been here?"
"Yeah. And I think they're now threatening the Union directly."
"Got it," said Dillon. "M-I is coming to loot the place. It'd make them the most powerful corporation in our end of the galaxy. It'd ruin the balance of power."
&nbs
p; Tal sat down on the ramp, lips pursed as he looked into the distance. "Why does everyone have to be fighting all the time?"
Yaella was absently tapping her boot on a dull red patch on the deck. "And this red shit… they even use it as paper," she said. "Books, too. The woman was writing by hand, keeping track of stuff."
"A book?" said the Admiral. "No computers? What the hell happened to them? They must've lost centuries of advancement. Millennia, maybe."
"I guess," said Yaella. The pieces were coming together. "Now they're surrounded by tech they can't manufacture or even fix. Eventually it'll all crap out."
Ocean stopped his pacing in front of Yaella. "But what about my people? What about them, Captain? Don't they matter to you?"
Yaella raised a placating hand. "Of course they do. The woman I was talking to kept saying she didn't know. But…"
"But what?"
She was working on an idea. "But… that's not the same as saying that no one knows. I mean, if they're writing stuff down on paper… then something that happened centuries ago—"
"They'd have to go look it up," finished Bucky. "In a book. Their computer system must be ruined. Can you imagine?"
Ocean backed a step away from them, his eyes going from one person to another. "So you're not going to do anything? Any of you?"
"Wait," said Yaella. "We can't—"
He pointed a finger toward the fortress interior. "They killed my people, Captain. How many times do I have to say it?"
She needed him to keep calm. "Ocean," she said gently. "We don't know that. There's no proof."
Ocean stared at her. "No proof? What proof do you need? A confession? A video of them shooting my people like animals?"
"They wrapped the dead and laid them to rest, Ocean. You don't do that for animals…"
"My people were alive!" he cried. She could hear the despair in his voice. "I spent centuries looking for them, thinking I was the last. And they were alive! I should've found them!"
"I know," said Yaella. "I understand—"
"No, you don't." He gestured at the rest of the crew. "What if you were the last human? Or the last Palani? And you found out that your people had been alive, but were murdered so their ship could be scavenged? Made extinct for spare parts?" He took a step back. "No." He shook his head. "You should go. All of you. Leave me here."
"What?" said Yaella. "We're not leaving you—"
"Go," he said. "I'm giving you a chance. That's more than they gave my people."
Out of the corner of her eye, Yaella saw the others standing up. Tal started backing up the ramp.
"Ocean?" she said. She took a step closer. "Don't—"
"Go," he seethed. "I'm going to end this."
"What?" A flush of heat rushed to her face. "No, you're not."
His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He glared at her as long, swirling lines of black specks streamed outward from his eyes and nose. "Go, Captain." His emotions were gone; he sounded unnaturally calm. "You brought me this far, and I am grateful for it. But—"
"Don't give me that shit," she snapped. She stepped in front of him. "You think you're going to dissolve the station and kill all these people. Don't you? Huh?"
"Captain—" he warned.
She jabbed a finger at him. "Don't you 'Captain' me! What do you—"
"They killed my people! I'm going—"
"Stop interrupting me, damn it!" she shouted. "Fine! Suppose you're right! Suppose their great-great-grandparents killed your people. Then what?"
"Then they pay for—"
"Really? They pay?" She leaned forward, her face near to his. "So, two wrongs make a right? Or three wrongs, or four, or a hundred? Do we just keep piling on the 'wrongs'? If the pile is high enough, does it turn into a 'right'?"
"Captain—"
"Shut the hell up." She pointed toward the cargo ramp. "Quit your bullshit, and get on the damn ship. I've come all this way, and I'm not going to let you throw everything away for your idiotic revenge. We're going to go find out what's going on here. And then, if you're still so damned keen to murder innocent people, I'll find you some."
Ocean glared at her, the black specks still swirling around on his face and neck. Then, without another word, he turned and started toward the ship. Everyone else stood aside, giving him a wide berth as he stomped up the ramp and into the ship. The others stared at her, looking shell-shocked. "You too," she barked. "Get in the damn ship. We're leaving."
Bucky and Tal, both wide-eyed, started backing up the ramp. The Handmaiden went with them.
Admiral Dillon watched them go, then turned toward her with a grin on his face.
"What's so damn funny?" She realised how fast her heart was beating. "Damn it. Why did I have to go and lose my cool?"
The Admiral leaned closer. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that may have been your principles talking."
"Nsal 'neth," she breathed. She gestured awkwardly around her. "I mean, I'm here to rescue innocent people. If we start killing innocent people while we're at it, then what's the damn point?" She took another few deep breaths, and tried to calm her trembling hands. "I… I guess we gotta go back to Niner. They gave me the location of a planet where some of the hybrids live. I think they only did that because they're scared of Niner."
"I understand, Captain. But Niner and I won't be coming with you. Once I collect my things, I'll be staying here."
"What?" She looked up at him. "Here? Just you and Niner?"
He nodded. "Just us. I have something I need to do. I need to talk to these people." He must've seen the expression on her face, because he shook his head. "No, we're not going to kill them. We're going to do the opposite, if we can."
So this was where their paths diverged. They had different goals ahead of them. But that's okay. "Will we see you again?"
"I hope so. When it's time to head home, maybe we'll travel together."
"Okay." She took a deep breath and tried to relax. "I still can't believe I snapped at Ocean like that. But he could've started a war, and I couldn't let him."
"Keep it up," he said with a grin, "and there's a future for you as a chief petty officer." Smiling at his private joke, he turned and started up the ramp.
Yaella took one last look around the red interior of the Union fortress, before following the Admiral up into the Blue Guardian.
Chapter Forty-Two
"Was there anything else, Mahasa?"
Zura looked up from her map. "No, Colonel Mwangi. Everything is well in hand, for which I thank you."
A smile on the human's face. "Of course, Mahasa. I will make sure the logistics summary is ready before the meeting."
"Good. Dismissed until oh six hundred."
"Yes, Mahasa." A deep, perfect bow, and Mwangi turned away. The duty-cabin door closed behind him.
She'd told her senior commanders what she wanted, and they'd prepared plans. She'd approved them, some with minor changes, then let the commanders go about setting their plans in motion. Where the fleet needed to be was the Mahasa's problem; how the fleet got there was left to the admirals.
They were now underway, headed to Palani Yaal La. They would arrive tomorrow, as the morning sun rose over the holy city of Resana. Just in time for dawn prayers. Across Palani space, the clock had started ticking down the hours until the attack. All her forces were on schedule, to arrive at their designated points the moment the Kaha Ranila and the rest of the battlefleet emerged from FTL.
Ivenna — and the Temple's forces — knew she was coming. They'd be waiting for her, but it didn't matter. Tomorrow, eleven days after the coup had begun, she was going to end it. The only remaining variable was how many people would die. Palani killing Palani, hastening their people's slide toward extinction, all because some politicians had become drunk with power. Seeking to drag the Palani all back in time to a mythical 'golden age' of the past, rather than building a better future.
It will all be over soon enough.
With a s
weep of her hand, the holographic map disappeared. Zura stood up straight, her midsection aching and sore, and turned toward the door. The statue in gleaming black combat armour was standing where she'd been all day.
"Time to go," said Zura. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."
Irasa's voice came from the black helmet. "Yes, Mahasa."
The armoured giant led the way out the door of the ready room. Zura was lost in thought as she followed Irasa through the admiral's bridge and down the corridor toward her cabin. She was aware of other officers in the corridor, who stopped against the bulkheads and bowed as she passed. Tomorrow was going to be different for them: they were going to be fighting other Palani. For the first time and, she hoped, the last.
She was still running through the checklist in her mind — looking once more for the missed detail, the scrap of information she'd overlooked — when the cabin door closed behind her.
The sitting room was big enough for a Mahasa to hold court over subordinates, but now it was empty. There were no more meetings to hold.
Irasa locked the door before pulling off her helmet. "The room is secure, Mahasa," she said, her voice undistorted by the helmet. Irasa was head and shoulders taller than Zura, and built like a dreadnought. The young face looked down at her with a hint of uncertainty. "Mahasa?"
Zura sighed. Even among the immortal Palani, she felt old. Everywhere she went, she was surrounded by people centuries younger than her. "This will all be over soon, Irasa. One way or the other, I'll be gone. What then for you?"
"If they kill you, Mahasa, it will be because I am already dead. Otherwise, I will take what comes."
"Yes," she said quietly. "Take what comes." Was everyone just living one day at a time? Waiting for the universe to be set right?
"I come from Neerana," offered Irasa.
"Ah," said Zura. "I know the place." A small town on Tal Quin, on the shore of the Eastern Sea. The sort of place where — even for Palani — things moved slowly.
"A man there waits for me," said Irasa. "Del. He's a good man. A gardener. He is patient and gentle." A warm smile spread across Irasa's face, and it lit up her eyes. "He is planting a flower garden for me, Mahasa. He tells me he will wait for me another twenty years." She raised a finger in mock scolding. "But not a minute longer."