by KT Belt
“I’m sorry,” Carmen muttered, at a loss for anything else to say.
Rauon seemed completely unmoved by the apology. “I used to have long, philosophical discussions with the project leader before…then. I was always struck by how hurried he was. Every test result and analysis never came fast enough. It didn’t make sense to me. Clairvoyants have been studied for decades and will continue to be studied for decades—centuries. What difference did it make if some bit of research was delayed by a day or two?” Carmen nodded slowly. “His reply was always the same. ‘You don’t know the Clairvoyant beasts as I do. Their Dark is always set against us, all of us. It has been too late for us from the moment we discovered the vermin. We will lose the whole of our kind unless we discover some defense against them. I fear the fires of their wanton destruction will touch every corner of the galaxy.’”
In that moment, Carmen thought of some of the things Kali had said about sortens. She’d spent most of her energy during those conversations trying to block out her old handler’s bile. Despite Kali’s intent behind what she said, there was still an element of truth to it.
“Everyone in Solitary is here for their own personal reasons. We accept only volunteers,” he continued. “Over twenty-five billion have been lost in this war on all sides, and it hasn’t even been a year.”
“But the sortens surrendered,” Carmen pointed out.
“Yes,” Rauon agreed. “Yes,” he said again softly, reflexively. “But our work is still important. There is no home for most of us to go back to. I was never for the war or our occupation of your kind. After witnessing the horror of it all, the mass destruction, I can offer no rationalization for any of it.” He paused for a moment. “What is it that Clairvoyants like to say? Things just are?” he asked, his tone almost patronizing. “I understand the purpose of the attack. I understand what it meant for the war—why it happened. But, in an instant, all that I knew no longer existed…”
He took a deep breath, and it seemed like he was holding back from saying more. Then he looked around the room slowly. “We’re safe here in Solitary, studying, researching…while the galaxy plays out its own drama, none the wiser. All there is is Solitary, its endless corridors, and our goal. No one here would say there’s anything else. Not now.”
Carmen nodded slowly, and the two of them stared at each other, neither saying nor even thinking about saying a word. They were mere feet apart, but in that moment, the gulf between them seemed insurmountable. The sorten had long since finished with his PDD. The Clairvoyant sat still, unsure if he was waiting for some type of response.
Rauon mercifully ended the silence first. “We have other tasks.”
She nodded, and they left the medical bay for the endless corridors of Solitary.
18
Truthful Deceit
Inertia stared at Carmen for a moment. His face was focused and serious. “Tell me what happened one more time, please,” he spoke.
She nodded and once again went over every moment of her time with Rauon earlier in the day. She spoke quickly but with as much detail as she could. Her haste was borne out of the simple fact that she didn’t know if they would be interrupted before she could finish. The sortens were having a meeting of some sort, which allowed the two of them to be together in the meantime. There was no telling how long that time would last.
Inertia nodded solemnly when she finished. “This complicates things.”
Mugal looked at Rauon for an uncomfortably long time. Caelus stood by them, simply watching the proceedings with no comment or reaction.
“She did what?” Mugal bellowed.
“As I said, she went into the communications room,” Rauon answered again. “But, once again, I was conducting an experiment. She did not know where she was going. Nothing was compromised.”
“And who gave you permission to conduct experiments at will, let alone one so foolishly naïve?” Mugal asked.
“I believe the project leader did,” Rauon said, looking at Caelus. “If I may quote, ‘I give you full license to uncover all the secrets of the Clairvoyant beasts. Question and be suspicious of everything, no matter how small. The tiniest clue could lead to the solution we’re looking for.’”
Mugal was quiet for a long moment. The security director stared at him with thoughts Rauon could only guess at burning behind his mirthless eyes. Rauon wished he hadn’t found out what had happened.
“And what did you hope to achieve with your experiment?” he asked.
Rauon hesitated for a second as he thought. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there’s very little about Clairvoyants that anyone objectively knows, particularly their intuition,” he said. “They tend to just know information for no discernable or probable reason. Clairvoyants themselves don’t even know how it’s possible…”
Throughout his response, Mugal looked at him as if he were an imbecile. Rauon’s voice trailed off before he could dare to make his next point. The security director seemed so annoyed by every word he uttered that Rauon wondered if he’d be vaporized for the insult. It was then that Caelus entered the conversation.
“Go on,” the project leader said simply.
Mugal’s eyes flashed Caelus a look of betrayal before he turned his attention back to Rauon.
“It seems as I suspected,” Inertia said.
“Well, we always knew they had two bases,” Carmen replied.
“Yes,” he said with a nod, “but remember what you said. Whoever was on the other end of that comlink said they were transiting to a new position.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, her gaze dropping as she thought through the event. Her eyes moved wildly back and forth behind closed eyelids as she shifted through the available information, meager as it was. “A starship?” she finally exclaimed.
Inertia stood and strolled around the small room they waited in. “It makes the most sense. A planetoid in the middle of nowhere and a starship that is always moving. And, by that communique, it seems that this place and that ship will have a comms blackout till it arrives at its new position. Then who knows what happens.” Carmen sat back in her chair and considered what he said. “We will have to act quickly,” he continued.
“Why is that?” she asked.
“That starship can go anywhere. It’s probably something unambiguous, like a freighter or passenger ship. Any unexplained loss of communications with this base and I bet they disappear. Just like that, gone,” he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
“Which means we have only a week to get what we need here and find that ship,” Carmen said, the gravity of it all hitting her for the first time. Inertia nodded slowly. “That does complicate things.”
“Fine, the experiment might have been justified,” Mugal said. “But I don’t trust them.”
He looked at the security monitor next to them, which showed the two Clairvoyants talking. He’d give all four of his legs to know what they were discussing, undoubtedly some subterfuge. Solitary didn’t have any need to spy on its personnel, though, so an audio recording system had never been installed. The male paced around the room slowly while the female sat. He noted after some more study that, while they appeared to be talking, their lips weren’t actually moving. A chill crawled up the sorten’s spine.
“What do you think they’re discussing?” Mugal asked no one in particular.
“Probably why we left them alone in a room,” Rauon suggested. The security director shot him a glare, but he was undeterred. “Yes, we must be careful. However, nothing they’ve done warrants your suspicion. We sought to hire powerful Clairvoyants and powerful Clairvoyants made themselves available. They have fully cooperated with our every request.”
Mugal heard everything Rauon said but seemed unmoved. “That is what concerns me. Charon made threats. Charon set limits. Yes, he willingly worked with us, but it was no secret that he hated us as much as we feared him. Hate I can trust. These two Clairvoyants, in that regard, give no such certitude,” Mugal said.
“If you believe that, why did you allow them to come here?” Rauon asked straightaway.
“I have already given you that answer.”
“You have?” he asked back.
“Yes. As you said, ‘I give you full license to uncover all the secrets of the Clairvoyant beasts. Question and be suspicious of everything, no matter how small. The tiniest clue could be the solution we’re looking for.’ Remember?” Rauon gave his assent, and Caelus continued. “If need be, that includes inviting even our most lethal enemies to our doorstep. It is clear that the Clairvoyant scourge can be answered in no other way.”
He suddenly got a faraway look in his eye. “All of my life I have studied the demons. The more I learn, the more certain I become that we will not continue if we remain as totally defenseless against them as we are. There are billions of terrans throughout the galaxy. Now they are weak, but if even ten percent of them gained the self-awareness of their inborn ferocity, the beasts would raze our civilization to the very ground! They have but one ultimate purpose: destruction. It has never changed in the whole of their existence.”
“All of them?” Rauon asked. “That’s what they all want?” Caelus made no reply other than to look at his subordinate curiously. Rauon turned his attention to the security monitor. “I don’t think it’s all of them.”
Mugal let go a small sneer. “You’re referring to the female. I’ve noticed he is quite taken by her,” he said to Caelus.
Rauon turned to look at them both before he looked at the monitor again. He wondered what the Clairvoyants were talking about. Surely nothing as serious as this.
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted simply. “There’s something different about her.”
“She is Clairvoyant through and through,” Caelus cut in. “Her wiles even gave me pause. I see the hate in her eyes, though. It betrays her. Do not fall prey to her guile. I don’t know when, but they will kill us all. Death is and will always be the Clairvoyant’s purpose.”
“We have to kill them all,” Inertia said simply.
Carmen froze so completely that her heart even skipped a beat. “Must we?” she asked. In the back of her mind, she knew Solitary needed to be destroyed. Still, the stark imminent reality of the possibility made her quake.
“It’s too much to risk otherwise. If that starship gets any warning—any warning at all—we will never find it, which would mean our mission would be null and void.”
“Our mission?” Carmen asked, more to herself than to him.
Inertia looked at her silently. He didn’t appear angry. No, he was a long way from anything approaching anger. She looked him in the eyes and saw only calm patience.
“I know the only reason you are here is for Phaethon,” he began. “I know you have no care for myself, my mission, the war, or anything but your charge. But let me remind you that Charon works for the sortens. How many charges has he taken or will he take? Look at the work they’re doing. Those Clairvoyants will be dissected and studied with no mercy or compassion. Just like…” He hesitated. “Just like Phaethon probably has been,” he finally said.
“Don’t say that,” Carmen muttered out loud, her voice quiet.
Inertia didn’t respond right away. “It’s most likely the truth and you know it,” he said, his tone firm and dispassionate but not harsh.
Carmen slowly shook her head in disbelief. Then she looked at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t say it,” she repeated.
He was silent for another few seconds. The worry on his partner’s face gave him a pained frown. “I’m sorry you have to be here. I’m sorry for the situation. But I need you, and this is where we are. We have to attack, and soon. And we will probably have to kill every single one of them.” Inertia took a deep breath. “What do you say?”
She nodded glumly and then swallowed hard. “All right.”
“Do you think you can find that comm room again?”
“No,” Carmen said without wavering.
“Shit.”
Rauon looked at Mugal, then at Caelus, and finally at the Clairvoyants on the monitor. The two sortens stared back at him. It stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. For the first time since he’d begun his work at Solitary, Rauon questioned the purpose of it. The two lethal Clairvoyants stayed where they were told, neither bothering nor harming anybody.
He looked at Caelus then. The scientist casually watched him. The intelligence twinkling in his eyes seemed to pierce all that their gaze set upon, unravelling the mysteries of the universe on but a trifle. It was his most dominating feature. But, on second thought, that was too near-sighted a conclusion. Rauon cautiously eyed the project leader’s artificial arm and leg. Caelus rarely told the story of how he’d come to have the prosthetics. Rauon had only heard it told once, which seemed odd now on reflection. It didn’t seem to be a painful memory for him. The project leader practically used it as cautionary tale for the new recruits, laughing and even joking about his own foolishness.
In his story, Caelus spoke of how he once had a Clairvoyant lab assistant whose abilities were helpful in his work, and whose open demeanor had lulled him into a false sense of camaraderie. One day, this assistant stole his access codes to free the other Clairvoyant research subjects. Caelus said he confronted the Clairvoyant on the nature of his betrayal and their working relationship. The Clairvoyant supposedly made no reply—save one. Rauon remembered Caelus’s uproarious laughter at this point in the story before he continued. The Clairvoyant burned off his arm and leg and then, after ensuring he wouldn’t die, left him there. Caelus had laughed lightly while explaining that the sorten military wanted to use Clairvoyants as living weapons and had thus conditioned them to always fight to the death. The insult of being only maimed by a Clairvoyant was clear. Caelus rarely talked about what happened, but he was quite fond of saying, “That Clairvoyant could have killed me a thousand times with the effort of just a thought.”
The project leader stood over both Rauon and Mugal, as always on his hind legs. His patches of burned flesh and his arm and leg made of metal had long since escaped notice, but now, in this moment, Rauon noticed. The planetoid, down to its most minute detail, was Caelus’s construct through and through. He was the foremost author and practically father of Clairvoyant research. This sorten, this great sorten, was the progenitor of nearly it all. Rauon looked up at him, unsure of what he was about to say.
“Sir,” he began, “I don’t believe you have the best perspective.”
Mugal looked like he’d been struck by lightning. Caelus, however, only leaned slightly back as he considered Rauon’s words.
“Explain,” the project leader said simply.
Rauon steeled himself with a deep breath. “With complete respect, Project Leader, I believe your prior experience with Clairvoyants negatively influences you more than you realize.”
“Mind your place,” Mugal barked.
“No, please listen to me,” Rauon pleaded. “We have an opportunity here that’s almost undreamed of,” he said, gesturing to the monitor. “Two Clairvoyants—two of them—willing to work with us. It’s only been a day and Psyche has already been very helpful, and you’d have the security director cast them out the nearest airlock.” He paused and looked at the Clairvoyants on the monitor. “I don’t know about Inertia, but with Psyche, when I look in her eyes, I don’t see hate. I don’t know what I see, but it’s definitely not that. I…trust her.”
Mugal scoffed loudly and groaned. “Before you get too enamored, don’t forget yourself. How do you think the Clairvoyant countermeasure we develop will be used? Natural Clairvoyant or Construct, the interest of the military has remained the
same,” he said. “How could it not? We deserve blood for blood for the billions the terrans slayed. Don’t you think your children deserve at least that much?”
Rauon could think of no reply. He eventually looked at Mugal and gave a small nod. Caelus said nothing either. He walked past his two subordinates like the master and commander he was and stopped in front of the monitor to watch the Clairvoyants for a time.
“Trust,” he said as he turned around. Then he looked down at his artificial arm. “We must not forget ourselves to the vexing ways of those cursed creatures. Do not begrudge Rauon, my old friend,” he said to Mugal, the twinkle in his eye returned anew. “It is the nature of our work that we get lost in it from time to time. I appreciate that he had the courage to light the way.”
“Thank you, Project Leader,” Rauon said.
Caelus waved the apology away and looked at the monitor again. “Our guests have been waiting long enough. I will see them now.”
“Why do we have to go back to the comm room?” Carmen asked. “Can’t we just blow up the planetoid?”
“You misunderstand. Getting back to the comm room is not about killing the people there. Not exactly,” Inertia responded. “It has to do with how communications systems work. Signals can’t be sent in random directions with any hope of a response. Not with the distances involved.” Carmen nodded, and he continued. “The starship said they would communicate again in a standard week. That means this facility would have to have some idea of where the starship is at that time in order to talk to it, probably down to the sector at least.”
“And how helpful is that?”
He paused as he thought through his answer. “Finding one single starship that could be anywhere in the galaxy is like trying to find a needle on a planet.”