Earth Song: Etude to War (13 page)

“Supervisor,” he acknowledged and turned to the computer, sending the file onward as ordered with his code keyed the approval of the computer's analysis. Now the file was his responsibility. It felt like he'd just made a mistake.

“Well done. I have been reviewing your work and will make a positive notation for the next biannual salary review.”

Ataalan spoke his thanks, but the Tog was already gone, leaving him feeling like he'd been manipulated. But again he had to think, why would the Tog be involved in a subterfuge with their own grant of worlds? Something they wanted to keep from the other Higher Order species was the obvious answer. And considering the Leasehold Office was jointly administered by all of those powerful species, the Tog were taking a huge risk of their plans being revealed.

As he returned to work on the data packet he'd put aside when the supervisor arrived, Ataalan didn't notice that small metallic case sitting on the desk next to where that Tog had stood. In only an hour the Traaga was already beginning to fall back into the wonderfully boring job, the traumatic events of the day quickly drifting into the back of his mind.

Another hour later, the bomb detonated.

Part II

Chapter 10

March 3rd, 534 AE

T'Chillen Command Ship, Enigma Sector, Galactic Frontier

The two squadrons of starships faced off across half a parsec of space. Both formations were tight and prepared to do battle, but neither was willing to make the first move. The T'Chillen fleet commander was Singh-Apal Katoosh.

It was only the first time he'd commanded a fleet of starships, and he was not happy with the situation. A decade ago he'd been in charge of a ground contingent sent in response to an incursion of their research on the Enigma star system by the Rasa.

After the theft of the ancient Lost starship, he'd been tasked with enacting their revenge against the Rasa by destroying them on their own leasehold. The arrival of the same Lost starship had spelled doom for two of their precious starships, and allowed a small core of the Rasa to survive their fate. If and where they now survived, none knew.

After acquitting himself well in that campaign, Katoosh was elevated from tactical commander to fleet commander and given instruction in operation of large starships. It was a great honor, considering how few of the machines the T'Chillen had remaining. Only months ago the aged supreme fleet commander had been killed in a duel, and Katoosh rose to take his mantle. And now this.

“Update,” he ordered from the dreadnought's bridge.

“Tactical situation unchanged,” the technician, a female, responded. Most of the bridge crew were females. They were inferior in most ways to the more power, more ambitious males of the snake-like species. But when it came to the patience and aptitude for technology and sciences, the females excelled.

When he'd taken over the fleet there had been few females on the flagship's bridge. Not being as hidebound to his species’ sexist nature, he'd quickly checked the fleet's personnel files and reassigned crew with complete disregard for their sex. Some of the ships individual commanders were not happy with his decisions, but already fleet operational standards were noticeably increased.

“Scans have confirmed eleven ships in the enemy squadron,” announced another female technician. “Three cruiser class, seven destroyers, and one carrier. Identity is still not confirmed.”

Katoosh nodded his massive head, the hood flaring slightly at the possibility of a fight. His own fifteen ships more than outmatched the enemy, especially since he had two dreadnoughts. The problem was the carrier. He only had two squadrons of fighters, one on each dreadnought.

Fighter craft was the one area his species was sorely deficient in. There were only three fleet carriers left in their arsenal, half a dozen light carriers, and a handful of other ships capable of carrying fighters in small numbers. Not that it mattered, because they had more capacity to carry fighters than actual fighter craft.

The fact that a carrier was in the other squadron all but identified them. It had to be a Mok-Tok contingent. The T'Chillen high command had been certain that none of the other spacefaring species knew of the existence of Enigma. Sure until today, that is.

“Communications,” he ordered, “inform the enemy squadron that if they do not wish to engage in battle this day, then they are to withdraw immediately.”

“Transmitting, fleet commander.”

Several million miles away the enemy ships floated impassively. Seconds stretched into minutes, then they began to move. “Enemy maneuvering,” a tech needlessly informed him as the big tactical board showed the distant ships movements.

He tensed, ready to fight. Poison dripped from his tiny fangs in anticipation. But a second later the ships swung in perfect unison, thrusting ninety degrees from their initial course, and with a series of flashes went supra-luminal. “The enemy squadron has withdrawn.”

“Acknowledged. Secure from battle station. Disperse the fleet, monitoring scheme two. Communications, prepare a dispatch to the high command. We're going to need more ships.”

* * *

Katoosh finished writing his report to the high command and sent it whisking through space then curled tighter around his relaxation pedestal in his comfortable cabin, just behind the dreadnought's bridge. How the report would reach his superiors never entered his mind. He preferred the old days as a small unit commander to all the paperwork and politics of high command. This new development of the Mok-Tok probing the system further reinforced his distaste for his new job.

He did some of the clerical work his command position required then took a small meal before the reply from high command arrived. He would be sent one of the T'Chillen's incredibly rare carriers. At top speed he could expect its arrival in just under three months, which meant the ship was more than 2,000 light-years distant. Katoosh had feeling that wouldn't be soon enough.

He closed the message and logged it into his personal records and was about to leave the bridge when the communication panel once again came alive. His eye stalks craned to look, expecting a follow-up message from the high command. Instead, it was a simple text message. “Increase your alertness.”

Katoosh turned his body as he regarded the message, a chill making his entire six meter length shiver. His tail spike rasped across the floor, drawing a line of silver sparks. His tentacles tapped out a reply. “Is this the Grent again?”

“Of course.”

Years since the last message from the supposed overlords of the galaxy, and here they were again. Was he being closely watched by these ghosts from time? Did they know where he was, and what he was doing?

“My duties are well defined.”

“Your duties to us take precedence.”

“I cannot neglect my duties to the clan and my species. It is my job to safeguard this treasure-trove.”

“Why do you think you have the position you do?”

Katoosh felt anger instead of fear now. Was this ghost suggesting he was chosen as fleet commander because of them? Before he could reply more words appeared. “Yes, that is correct. We made it certain that you would be where you are, fleet commander.”

“How is that possible,” he demanded, though his anger was no slightly tempered by that seemingly psychic response.

“Do you believe you are the only agent we have created in your species? We have agents in all places, in all governments, in all corners of the galaxy. We are everywhere.”

“Then why have I never heard of you except in legend and whispered fears told in the dark over intoxicants?”

“It is how we wish it. We have been sleeping for many years now, waiting, watching.”

Waiting for what? Watching what? His mind went back to the initial message. “What am I to be alert against?”

“There are designs against your prize in that star system.” That wasn't news to Katoosh. “It does not serve us for you to lose control of the Fire Base.”

“Then use your power to allow us access to the ships. If you are who you say you are, that should be of no real difficulty.”

There was no reply for several long minutes, and Katoosh didn't know what to think. Had he angered the Grent and they were no longer going to speak to him? He wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Or had he hit a sore spot? Where they as helpless to affect these powerful ships as the T'Chillen were? He was about to give up and leave when another message arrived. “There is more to this than you will be allowed to understand.”

Suitably cryptic
, Katoosh decided. However, what the Grent was asking him did not conflict with his duties. He was already tasked at being vigilant in the Enigma system. It was hardly a secret that any other species would covet the ancient Lost ships. It was only bad luck that the Mok-Tok had finally discovered the cache of powerful ships. Worse luck, the Mok-Tok were much more technologically savvy than his own species. It was even conceivable that they could gain access to the ships. That would mean the end of the Quorum, and likely the beginning of a Mok-Tok dominion.

“You don't want the Mok-Tok getting these ships,” he typed.

“You are perceptive.”

And I'm much more than what you have claimed to make me
, he thought as he typed. “We lack the resources to resist the shambling beasts,” he typed, referring to the beastly mounts the Mok-Tok rode around on. It was widely understood that the true beings were small creatures that lived symbiotically on the big three legged furry animals you saw, but to his knowledge no-one had ever seen one. “It is likely they have additional ships nearby.”

“You have carriers available. Utilize them.”

“They are en route, but will not arrive for months.”

“There is a way to get your carrier to arrive faster.”

Now the Grent had Katoosh's complete attention. Aside from some meager details on the Kaatan ship and supposedly covert help in his career, they had provided nothing but anonymous text messages. Could they somehow make his ships faster than the top 3,000 times the speed of light all T'Chillen ships of the line were limited to?

The technical data on the Lost Kaatan class ships’ gravitic lens drive spoke of 5,000 times the speed of light. It was significantly faster, but not that much. Even doubling the speed only put the carrier on station in a month and a half, instead of three months. And it had to be more than just a wave of a magic Grent wand to make such a thing possible. “How can you do this?”

“We will show you.” A data packet arrived on his computer. As Katoosh read, he began to get excited.

Chapter 11

March 4th, 534 AE

War College, University of Plateau, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe, Bellatrix

The hardest thing for Minu Groves, Dean of the War College, was going back to work as if nothing had happened. At the end of the weekend she flew her aerocar back to the university, left the car in her marked parking space, went to her office, got a cup of tea, and sat down at her large desk. Ariana had left her a stack of papers to review on Friday before going home. She picked up the first, an admissions file from the university bursar, and started reviewing it. And she was still staring at it when Ariana arrived.

“You okay, Minu?” the plump woman asked from the outer office door.

Minu jumped slightly and looked up, then glanced at the little holographic clock set into the desk. Two hours after she arrived?

“Sure, no problem. Can you warm up my tea for me?” Ariana came over and took the cold cup, eyeballing the empty out basket skeptically before going to the little microwave heater. Minu always arrived several hours before she did and Ariana always found a half-full “out” basket waiting for her. Unless something very serious was going on. She'd known her Chosen boss for quite a few years, since first becoming her assistant during the construction of Ft. Jovich, and knowing her well was part of the job description.

She sat the warmed cup next to Minu's elbow and glanced at the file, a simple admissions record, then put a hand on Minu's shoulder. Her boss looked up at her, a tear rolling down her white cheek. “You never have been a good liar.”

“Probably why my Chosen career is in such a shambles.” Minu wiped away the tear and chastised herself for being such an emotional child.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?”

Minu sighed and told Ariana the story, starting with the arrival of the team from the Plateau Historical Society at her island and ending with the horrible revelation.

* * *

The needle didn't hurt. It was Concordian technology incorporating a tiny field generator that numbed nerves in the skin. It wasn't a big needle anyway but Minu wondered how many children over the centuries would have wished for such a device.

It extracted a tiny piece of her flesh just below the skin. The man handed the device to another technician who interfaced it with his computer. The sample was analyzed on a genetic level in just five seconds. The man looked at Director Porter, then at Minu. Porter moved closer and examined the screen as Minu felt shivers run up her spine. Why was she so afraid of this? She was who she was. Chriso was her father, Sharon was her mother. The test couldn't change that.

“You are indeed related to Mindy Harper,” Porter confirmed.

“I knew that already,” Minu said, a little sharper than she intended.

He looked at the data and his eyes narrowed. “There is...more.” She cocked her head, inviting him to continue. “We ran the DNA we had from your family, including your
father
Chriso Alma, and your mother Sharon Alma.”

Minu didn't like the way he said father. “Please get to the core of it?”

“It will take some time to completely sequence your DNA, but the mitochondrial elements are quickly analyzed along with some genetic markers. Those markers are well established for the Harper line. There were seventeen distinct markers shared by direct decedents of the Harpers. Chriso Alma had fifteen of those markers. Mindy Harper only had one surviving child, and her genetic legacy has always been poorly passed on.”

“Father used to joke that our family always has better things to do than reproduce.”

“That is unfortunate,” he said with a halfhearted smile. “Anyway, with the genetic data from Sharon Alma, we know what to expect from your genetics. Her markers would interact with yours, and you would not have more than one or two of those specific Harper markers. Mitochondrial DNA are passed from mother to daughter, Chriso as your father was unable to pass any of those markers to you.” He turned the screen to show a complicated display. Even with her nominal scientific background, little of it made sense. He reached out and touched points on the graphical display, counting seventeen. “You have all seventeen markers.”

Minu took that in and studied the display. “I don't understand. If I have the markers, then I am related to Mindy Harper, as was my father.”

“Those markers can only be passed on from a female.” Minu looked at the man, profoundly confused. “Please understand, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Damn it, are you purposely trying to annoy me?”

He took a deep breath and spoke. “You cannot possibly be the child of Sharon and Chriso Alma. To make it even more complicated, we aren't sure who your parents are.”

Minu gawked as he proceeded. “Chriso Alma's great grandmother, Ester Harper, was the last woman we have genetic records of who held all seventeen markers. She was also the last person to have the name of Harper. She married Lester Alma who himself came from the Summit tribe of mixed genetic background, and two markers were lost. Through the generations between then and yourself, the markers have been further diluted. We expected to find no more than four in yourself. More than enough to point to the Harper line, of course.”

“Maybe it’s just an accident of genetics? A random combination?”

“Simply not possible. Even if some of the markers would appear through non-dominant DNA pairings, your mitochondrial DNA should match Sharon Alma's. Frankly, it's not even close.”

“So how do I find out who my parents really are?”

He looked at the computer and thought for a moment. “We have genetic records on nearly one hundred percent of the population of Plateau and New Jerusalem, more than seventy five percent of Summit, and Rusk, from there the numbers decrease. However, considering the purity of your Harper line markers, it shouldn't take more than a few weeks after we've finished sequencing your DNA. Say a month, two at the outside.”

* * *

“You're taking it surprisingly well,” Ariana said. She'd pulled one of the guest chairs around the desk to sit next to her boss as she talked. She reached out a hand and grasped Minu's. She squeezed back, glad for the gesture.

“It isn't finding out my father lied. And he's still my father, that hasn't changed. I guess I'm actually adopted, but still their child. I was raised by them. Anyway, it isn't the lie.”

She silently thought of the revelations months ago by P'ing of how the marriage of Chriso and Sharon was forced by the Tog in order to produce an offspring. She felt her innards twist in knots.
Father, what did you do? Am I some kind of damned clone?

The thought hit her like a club to the head. She was almost a dead ringer for Mindy Harper. Looking at their images side by side made one think of sisters. Was that possible? Was she a clone?

The horrific look on her face made Ariana fear her boss was about to completely lose it emotionally. “Minu, I'm here for you. I know we've never been friends, you keep that list short on purpose. No-one blames you for that, really. But I'll help any way that I can.”

“You're right,” Minu replied, coming out of her panic with a jerk.
Clone? Don't be an idiot.
“I am too miserly with those I call friend. You've worked with me for years, and I'd like to think of you as my friend.”

Ariana leaned forward and the two women hugged, separating after a moment. Ariana appreciated it, but she knew better. The key to Minu Grove's heart was a carefully guarded combination that few were allowed to know.

“I'll be okay now,” she said and got to her feet, going over to reheat her tea for the third time.

“What will you do?”

“Wait for the results to come back.” Minu shrugged. “It looks like my parents are dead no matter who they are, but it will be nice to know regardless.”

“If the press gets a hold of this they'll have a field day.”

“Oh, of that I'm certain. There are more than a few of those people that hate me to this day.”

“Do tell.” Minu laughed and Ariana joined in. As Minu's assistant, she often had to deal with the fallout from her boss’ less than diplomatic dealings with the press. She'd become an accomplished speaker over the years, but her technique in handling the press had not softened one tiny bit. She hated them with a passion, and the feelings were mutual.

Something about the way Ariana looked that morning made Minu think.

“Are you pregnant again?” Ariana blushed and looked down.

“Oh my God, you do know where those things come from, right?”

Ariana laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, we know.” She shrugged, a happy yet helpless gesture. “Bill and I just love kids! I'm only thirty three, so we figure we'll let God take his course with our family.”

Minu knew this was their fifth. What she hadn't known was her assistant was religious. Faith was something in short supply on Bellatrix. Her friend Ted Hurt, Dean of Sciences at the same university she taught at, thought it was a natural progression, since there hadn't been any divine intervention to save Earth. She didn't have much of an opinion on the matter. Her personal thoughts were somewhere between whatever makes you feel good, and you believe in that, really?

When it came to children, her feelings were even more split. She'd known plenty of people who were marginal parents, or worse. Her good friend Pip was a great example of a completely indifferent parent. Then there where the ones who treated their pets better than their children. And then the ones who lived for their children, investing their every ounce of self in making sure those little people became great adults and wanted for nothing. Luckily for the world, Ariana was one of the latter.

They talked for a few more minutes, Minu telling her she was happy for the woman and insisting it would be no real pressure to do without her while she had her fifth child. This time she promised herself that she'd request a temp. And finally Ariana returned to the outer office and Minu tried to get back to work. But as she sat there staring at the same file she finally realized it was a hopeless task.

“I'm going for a walk,” she told Ariana as she passed through the outer office, snugging the broad brimmed hat on her head. It might be only March, but the UV levels were still elevated. Doubly worse for her light complexion.

Ariana gave her a knowing smile and nodded. “The botanical garden is great, the daffodils are in bloom.”

Outside the air was a little chill. More so of course than her island that was far enough south that the climate was already warming. Chill but pleasant. She reminded herself that she needed to make time in her schedule for a regular run. She'd put on three kilos over the winter. Aaron never said a thing, and never would. But she’d noticed in the mirror that morning after showering and before flying back to Tranquility. She'd always been lean, on the edge of too lean the doctors told her. The life of a Chosen was tough and she'd spent a good part of her life in constant training. Like most athletes who gained weight, it wasn't distributing evenly. She had a tiny paunch on her tummy and her breasts were sagging a bit. She scowled as she walked.

Before long all her troubles began to recede as she reached the botanical gardens in the eastern part of the campus. Just like Ariana said, a carpet of yellow daffodils led down the gently sloping hill to the arboretum and just past that the clam-shell auditorium where summer concerts were held. The daffodils were subtle, but the chill air carried the gentle smell of flowers to her eager nose.

As she walked her thoughts drifted back to her once-again pregnant assistant. She'd caught 'the bug' the first time only weeks before the completion of Fort Jovich. That baby and the two following him were born while she'd been off rescuing Pip. On that same trip was when she conceived her own child, Lilith, after becoming intimate with her destined-to-be husband. She'd been forced to have the child aborted, told by the Medical Intelligence of the Kaatan that she couldn't carry the child and trying would result in possibly both of their deaths.

The rest was fate. The computer interpreted its operating rules in a creative way. Lacking the Operator a Kaatan needed, it took her fetus and used the ethereal time flux of supra-luminal travel to mature her to puberty in only a few weeks. During a battle at the Rasa home world, that child had emerged as the ship's master and led them to victory before introducing herself to her stunned parents.

When they returned to Bellatrix, Minu and Aaron were married. Having another child, this one on purpose and with all the expected benefits, had always been the plan. She loved Lilith, but it was not how she felt a mother and daughter should be.

How could it be normal? The computer had educated and formed her intelligence, inserted super-powerful computer interfaces into her brain similar to what had brought Pip back from his coma. It was a miracle she was as human as she was, and Minu sometimes wondered what the limit would ultimately be. She’d already proved a willingness to kill another human to protect her ship.

What would it feel like to carry a child until it was ready to be born? She unconsciously stopped and placed a hand on her still nearly flat stomach. The ship had fixed her old wounds, the results of an attempted murder during her Chosen Trials. Everything worked the way it was supposed to work. What to do with it?