We are all here for the same reason. In the end, we have all striven for the same thing. All the power each race will gain boils down to one thing: survival.
There are epic tales in the histories of every great race. But seldom has there been an epic that many races shared together. In the humans' year 2357, our galaxy saw that epic, the Frnalk and CTN on one side, Static on another, Ontanka on another, the Krenelia and humans on another, and many more yet to come into play. It was a war that had started hundreds of years ago between Praelor factions, the sort of war that begins and ends like a nightmare. But this did not end. Static got involved, humans dropped into the middle of it, Salenia was attacked because of its strategic location, Anorai stepped in to help the Krenelia, and then no one could keep track of how the rest went. All anyone knew was that when the smoke cleared, no world was left the same and no colony had the ruler that it had before.
It was a war that would become an epic, but it was like all wars. The stories don't tell you now that it was a war upon a war upon a war upon a war upon a war. No one remembers how the Frnalk and Ontanka started fighting; Ontanka are known for being idiotically persistent in their unorganized attacks, and the Frnalk are notorious for doing what they please when they please to whom they please for no particular reason. Only we now remember why we formed from the wartorn mess of our race. No one else either knows or cares now. No one tells you that Static got involved because they viewed the wormhole drive and long range laser as their inventions, that humans got involved because of a horrible error in communication, and that humans' involvement grew over a territorial dispute among themselves.
Neither does anyone tell you of the hardships of war, the hundreds of millions of innocents who died, the hard times when supplies were rationed and conditions were poor, when children were killed for sport and pregnant mothers were chased down and killed in the name of ridding the galaxy of vermin. Epics emphasize the gory battles and the gruesome deaths of the heroes, but they always forget the victims whose bodies were trampled down beneath the feet of unthinking, brutal enemies, whose blood, as humans say, paved the road to war and glory. So many that deserve to be remembered were never known. So much that should have been said was left to live in silence. But war forgets all, war leaves the rest behind.
But I will remember them all.
Coman excerpt taken and interpreted from Liani's memory crystal.
The Azhaani were on Empanda with Sayeh and Malcum when the first wave hit.
It came in a motley mass of mutant ships, sweeping in formation across the sky, deadly terrible with their awesome power. Red-eyed bugs, their exoskeletons a dull red-and-black-patched color, appeared on Empanda, on the Pax stations, on Angelus, on Acrylon and Keyton.
But it wasn't over. This was just a small wave, meant to disorient the human and Krenelia pilots.
Waves landed on Zander and Rolu, on Varoshna, and on Outreach next. The Krenelia took to the skies and the humans took to the ground, and the air was filled with fire and ice, the never-ending battle.
at some point during this wave, the asteroid mining and processing stations reported Praelor ground forces. Those who were staffing the stations at the time were all killed, and several Asteroid Haulers were grounded, their 2-person crews trapped, unable to launch thanks to the ships over-head, unable to emerge from their ships thanks to the overwhelming ground presence.
At the same time as the first wave was beginning its attack, Maerlyn launched his expediter and somehow managed to jump into Sector 12, where his battle cruiser still sat on Rolu. As he'd timed it exactly right, he managed to miss the Muzati which jumped into sector 15 just behind the first ships in the enemy fleet. Sapphire And steel lifted off, just ahead of the forces that would soon occupy Rolu, making several stops on the way, one on Saturn to buy bardenium, one on jupiter to install seatbelts in every non-ship seat, be it chair, couch, sofa, or love seat, and then jumped back into 15.
He managed to crew up and for a time, 15 was once again clear. Then the second wave hit and Maerlyn had no choice but to land for repairs.
Sayeh woke some time during this second wave. She rose, silent and pale, face drawn into hard, grim lines, eyes cold and hard and glittering, depthless as two chips of dark, dark ice. She moved with slow, deliberate, precise movements, and would not speak to or look at anyone except to say, "Go in Justyce and find WR's."
She ascended the levels to her control room, walking like someone who is going to their doom, her eyes staring straight ahead. "Leave Sarah Bird with Malcum," she said. "We can do nothing for him now. The galaxy needs us." Sarah Bird was the doctor they'd summoned for Malcum.
The blast door slammed shut behind her. When everyone was in the ship, including Cianan and Morpheus (who had returned from ground combat), they felt the effortless lift of the huge vessel, and the gentle thud as it was set down in the docking bay.
Sayeh didn't even wait for the arms to retract before beginning the launch procedures. She took to the skies like someone quietly, dangerously insane, pressing them all into their seats with the acceleration of liftoff.
Her implant crackled to life. "Watch for Kkhlyyr for me. I can't be in two places at once." It was the closest Trryhlin had come to showing emotion. Something struggled, and was suppressed, at the center of her being where the cold was deepest. Come back, it whispered feebly. But she was somewhere far removed from everything else, and all she knew were waves of cold, waves of calm, waves of emptiness.
She called out coords in a voice devoid of anything human, possibly of anything living, flying like a desperate person, like someone who knows, and doesn't care, that they could die at any moment, pulling off maneuvers she wouldn't have dared try before, especially against enhanced Praelor and CTN. The hard, cold energy that seemed to roll off of her scared her family into stunned, fearfully obedient silence. She was cold incarnate, the energy rolling off her like fingers of silvery-blue ice. And the battle only seemed to feed this until it snaked outward from the ship itself, and anything it touched curled into itself in frightened silence, trying to avoid the awful well of cold, cold, endless, fathomless ice. It wasn't like mental energy, like something you would channel, though that was definitely it, it was different. It was the very strength of the emptiness in her, and as it grew you could feel it from farther and farther away. Nothing was quite this empty. Everything felt something, be it twisted hate, desperation, determination, fear, sorrow, but not Sayeh. She literally felt nothing. She was nothing. She was like a traveling hole in space leading on to a no-space so empty that nothing could even exist inside.
Kkhlyyr's ship entered the sector and she said, not thinking, to her implant: "Turn back, or steal one of the CTN's rel drives."
There was chiming metal laughter in her ear. "There is no choice," came the response.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"The entire world is ridiculous now, what is the point in trying not to be?"
Sayeh sighed. The thing, called warmth, called Sayeh, moved in the center of the emptiness again. "Kkhlyyr, turn back."
"No can do, Sayeh."
"Damn you," Sayeh muttered. "Reckless, irrational ..."
She flew to try and help Kkhlyyr, to be the speed that the bigger, clumsier ship lacked while Kkhlyyr was the firepower of the team. Sayeh unconsciously reached out for Kkhlyyr's thoughts, the two minds met and they worked in tandem. The others picked up on what Sayeh was doing quickly, after all, a ship like Kkhlyyr's Trrghlinh had never been seen in human space, so they knew that it had to be her.
"I have to get reps," Sayeh said simultaneously into the implant and the PA. Then, to the implant: "Kkhlyyr, listen to me, please."
"Sayeh ..."
"What is it? You weren't like this earlier. Now you ... Oh God." The thought had occurred to her, the realization finally sinking in.
Kkhlyyr had lost her daughter.
"Not yet," said Kkhlyyr. But suddenly the ship wheeled, turning to make its slow, ponderous way toward Pax.
"What is it?" Sayeh asked. And then it clicked. Kkhlyyr had said not yet. Then why was she in the sky in the middle of a battle?
She was out of her mind, Sayeh decided. She turned toward Empanda.
"Shit! Blockades!" she said.
The computer flashed a message, and Sayeh breathed a sigh of relief. "Praelor Resati Lyyrrh Jrriya has jumped into the sector." Ehnorrai, with his time manipulation, could slow them down ...
Space and time trembled. Something seemed to build just below the surface of space, almost as if you could push your hands through and into it, feeling whatever it was made of. Everything rocked and trembled, the very bonds that held things together troubled by ... something.
And then ... there was a space that Sayeh couldn't remember. Had it been seconds, minutes, maybe hours? She couldn't tell. And the more she tried to focus on it, the more her head spun in confusion.
"Ehnorrai," she said into her implant, "you stopped time."
The ship floated in space, dark and blind.
"Ehnorrai," she said. Oh shit. Had he let the crystal generator burn itself out? First Kkhlyyr, then him?
Slowly, the ancient ship started to move. Sayeh said quietly into her implant, "You going to make it?" The response came, faint and thready with soft white noise like waves, "Yes ..."
The wormhole seemed to open slow and hazy, though Sayeh knew it was just her imagination, and Ehnorrai passed through. Sayeh flew through the hulks and debris of CTN, Alliance and Praelor ships alike, headed for Empanda and repairs.
"That didn't just happen," said Simon.
"It did," said Sayeh, collapsing into a chair in her apartment. She rubbed her eyes. "I hope Trryhlin tells us how the birth went, soon. Wait, how quickly does she go back into phase, I wonder."
She knew what phase would do to you, thanks to last night, making you into a being of carnal energy, suppressing your mind until it was sated. And that energy could take a long time to run its course. However, this time when Kkhlyyr went into phase, it would be a different sort of phase, Kloremra phase, a different thing. For Kkhlyyr, the time of uncontroled lust and the choosing of consorts was done, but she would always remember that time in her life. Sayeh, who would probably never enter that time in her own life would need an anchor consort, which she would keep until death. That was why Kkhlyyr had wanted her to make her decision before the onset of phase, rather than let her lust choose for her, for it would have no mind, only desire.
"I wouldn't know," a chorus of voices said, and then continued, "and I wouldn't want to know."
"Good to know that you're capable of conjuring up such traumatizing imagery without even hinting at it," Sayeh said dryly. "How's Malcum?"
"Fading fast," said Dr. Bird. "Sayeh, I need you to come with me. He wants you."
Sayeh rose slowly, her heart pounding with dread. What would happen if he died? She would have no one to anchor to, that was what. She would lose someone dear to her, a good man that had stood beside her for a long time.
No, she thought as she followed Dr. Bird through the long, quiet halls of her "apartment" (more like a thirty-five-room mansion), the carpet muffling their steps so that there was an eerie quiet over the house. I have many choices. But there is none that I would want. She realized sadly that there was no one she could trust so completely that she would let him that far into her mind.
There was one person that had never failed her. She had had complete, blind faith in him more times than she could count in more impossible, complicated situations than she could count. He had always made his way quietly out of the rubble of the mess, sorted out what was left, and been true to his word, that when he was near, she was completely safe. He was one of those presences that you became quickly familiar with, the sort of strength you didn't associate with time. He might really always be there. It was something you didn't question.
And he was the only person Sayeh could never read. Sayeh had hardly seen him unless he was quietly in charge of something, holding a group together with his presence alone. He was like a human Trryhlin, she thought suddenly.
But the one person she could trust completely was out of the question. He didn't connect to people. Something twisted inside her, a bitter, empty loneliness. She was alone in the truest sense of the word, alone in the spirit. She was losing the people dearest to her. They were all losing good people.
They reached Malcum's room. He was thin and pale in the expansive bed with its thick blankets and feather mattress. To Sayeh he seemed years older, his eyes distant and dim. Sayeh went to him and stood next to the bed, looking silently at him. His eyes focused slowly on her. "Sayeh," he murmured.
She sat down beside him. Sarah Bird left quietly.
"You going to make it?" Sayeh asked gently.
"No," he said simply.
She was quiet, appearing outwardly composed. But inside it was all she could do to keep her face from cracking, from sliding off and revealing that everything she'd ever known was coming apart and everyone she'd ever loved was slipping away.
"Sayeh?"
She sighed. "Malcum ... I already started to make the connection."
"What does that mean?"
"We're both going to die. I won't have to worry about losing Justyce now ..."
"No, no!" He went into a coughing fit, growing agitated. Finally he managed to say, "No, don't leave."
Sayeh sighed. "You either have to solidify the connection and become my anchor, which in that condition you can't manage ... or let me unbind it properly."
He sank back against his pillows, looking more thin and pale than ever. She had never seen Malcum look fragile, but he did now.
"I can't do that," said Malcum, reaching out with a great effort and taking her hand. She held on to him, feeling how cold he was. She could almost feel his life slipping out of him.
"Sayeh," he said, his eyes fluttering, his breath slipping. He went into another coughing fit, curled on the bed in pain. Sayeh climbed up and sat directly beside him, pulling him into her arms where he lay shaking in exhaustion.
She wiped the hair from his face and held him, and for a moment the connection flared between them, seeking purchase, seeking completion. He gasped, red tears leaking from his eyes. "It hurts, Sayeh ..." he whispered.
Sayeh couldn't say anything through the tears in her eyes. She clung to him and cried silently, because she could feel it too. But her pain would have no sound to define its agony, only silence to express that no sound could encompass it.
His body jerked in her arms, his back bowing, his hands flung back, his eyes, nose and mouth leaking red, red blood. He collapsed, the tension leaving him. He gasped once and was still, his breath slipping away with the faint sound of her name. As the last of the connection that would have been left her, Sayeh collapsed, exhausted. And that was where Sarah Bird found her a few minutes later, so weak that she was barely conscious. She enlisted the help of Simon and Cianan to move Sayeh to her room, and radioed over general communication that Sayeh's battle cruiser would not be in the air, because she was sick.
As Sarah Bird prepared to leave Sayeh's apartment, Maerlyn approached her.
"You did everything you could," he said gently, "even if you'd known what it was that killed him, you couldn't have gotten him to where he needed to be."
"I don't even know what killed him," Sarah said, "at first I thought it had something to do with ..."
"No," Maerlyn said simply, 'not that."
"Then what?" Sarah asked.
"A contact poison," Maerlyn said, "an extremely deadly contact poison. It was painted onto the hull of one of the ships in the public docking bay."
"How do you ...?" Sarah began.
"I smelled it," Maerlyn answered.
"You smelled it?" sarah asked.
"Yes," Maerlyn replied, "I smelled it. I smelled it on him and I smelled it in the public docking bay when those high Guard thugs took Lilly Marie. I smelled it just like that time last year when we nearly lost Caiden Shadowblade. I smelled it then too and got him to Sector 115, to the medical facility there. But with all that," he pointed upwards, "going on, we couldn't have gotten him there in time. I doubt I'd even have managed it in Sapphire And Steel, not with that many Frnalk ships up there. I'd have just lost a BC and finished up, together with everyone aboard, on Outreach, which is currently swarming with Frnalk ground forces. From there, we'd have been bug food."
"Who'd want to poison ...?" Sarah began, but Maerlyn cut her off, as if expecting the question.
"Allon Martellato," he said, 'but Malcum wasn't the target. The ship the stuff was on was caiden's BC, Vindico Atrum. Allon wanted, even now, to kill him. but Caiden was wearing armor. Malcum wasn't, and that stuff got into his system through the pours of his skin. Once introduced, you only have a limited amount of time to seek medical treatment, and standard medical drones in a ship's med bay can't extract it. Only advanced medical droids like the ones on the station in 115 can do that."
"It effected Sayeh badly," Sarah said, "she must have really loved him."
"It's not quite as simple as that," Maerlyn said, "Sayeh's a nexus. I'm still not sure of all the ramifications of that, but she was, forging a connection with him. he was to be her anchor. Thanks to his death, she has no anchor now."
"I don't ..."
"I don't either, not completely," Maerlyn said, "but if Sayeh dies, I'll see to it that Allon Martellato isn't long for this world either. but first ..." he trailed off, lost in thought.
Hours later, someone was shaking Sayeh awake. It was like rising through deep, dark water to a crashing, tumultuous surface. Down below there was nothing, no sound, no light, but up above, the storm had let loose. Sayeh had slept so deeply she hadn't dreamed, hadn't been aw5 of any time, like a no-space, no-time within her mind.
Sareela was leaning over her. "There was a message from Trryhlin," she said. "Kkhlyyr made it."
Sayeh blinked up in confusion at her sister, and then the events of the last few days came crashing in on her and a knot of dread, worry and grief settled into her stomach and coiled there, tense and painful and impossible to undo.
"Her daughter?" Sayeh asked.
"Alive," said Sareela, "for the time being."
"That's ... a good sign," Sayeh murmured. "How long have I slept?"
"Fifteen hours."
She groaned inwardly. Fifteen hours! And that hadn't even been enough. "What's happened?"
"Outreach is occupied. High Guard's been on the ground with our ground crews for two hours."
"Shit," said Sayeh, getting up. "Out. Everyone out. I'm showering and changing." She closed the door.
In another ten minutes she went over general communication. "I'm back in the sky. Do you need me on Outreach?"
There was a chorus of "Yes!" and "Goddamn!" over general comms.
"Oi, quit the comm spam!" Sayeh said. She went into her garage. Maerlyn's sentinel was just being lifted in. Everyone piled off. Sareela, Lillian, and Nahia joined Sayeh and the others on the battle cruiser.
"Time to break into the fund," Sayeh said. "We need atmo combat vehicles. I've never had a reason to get them." They flew to Acrylon and Sayeh left them temporarily.
Minutes later she was back, and they were headed to Outreach. Someone had an ameliorator on Deneii that was periodically launching and attaching ships to it. There was a small army of fighters and four BC's defending it against the Praelor ships in the sector.
Sayeh's BC launched a small fleet of fighters and several atmo combat fighters, incredibly tiny, compact craft swirling like motes of leagh! in Outreach's upper atmosphere, the fighters arrowing out in formation, lit by the energies of their drives. They were going to be stuck in the air or on Deneii, because Outreach was overrun with bugs.
"There's a new kind of bug on the ground! Looks normal, but is extremely resilient, fast, and powerful, and they work strategically, in teams!" someone was calling over short-range comms.
Sayeh had something special in her ship, something that she and a few others had designed. It was called TAAI, Telepathically Activated Artificial Intelligence. The telepathic circuits were precious things, installed by nonhumans thousands of light-years away. And the intelligence didn't seem so artificial sometimes.
"Taai," Sayeh said to the computer (she still preferred speaking to it), "I need your help."
A flickering image of a young girl came into existence. She was barely seventeen, with long midnight-black hair, sapphire eyes, a pale complexion and a delicate face and figure. Her mischievous grin and sparkling eyes seemed so human. "Sayeh, up to something?"
"Yes. Show me what's going on on the ground, if you would be so kind?"
"Of course."
Whoever was crying over short-range, and who was now eerily silent, was right. They looked like normal Praelor, but they didn't move like it. These were strategists and tacticians, and they knew how to work things to their advantage. They knew how much more fast and deadly accurate they were than humans. They worked in teams, which all worked as one unit, throughout the city.
But ... Flipping through the scenes (letting Taai fly for a moment), Sayeh began to observe something unusual. She found the view of a street, where a young woman lay bleeding and burned, her clothing mostly burned off. One of the normal-looking bugs scurried into the area, and stopped.
"Can you give me audio, Taai?" Sayeh murmured.
"My pleasure."
And Sayeh almost wished she hadn't asked for it.
The woman was crying, rasping something in some Old Earth language. With excruciating effort she rolled on to her side and covered her face.
The big, glittering bug, its carapace a surprisingly, incongruously pretty patchwork of bright colors, came over to her, dropping on to all five (but not in the same position they'd use to spray you), and peered at her through its big, dark faceted eyes. It made some sort of soft, chittering noise. The woman made a little frightened sound and tried to move away, her eyes leaking fresh blood. Again the soft chittering noise came, pitched on an almost questioning lilt. She dared to risk a glance through her hands at the bug, who was standing beside her, its head cocked.
Suddenly its entire body jerked and its legs buckled. It cried out, a tiny pitiful sound that didn't dare be loud enough for anyone nearby to here, just the woman who was staring at it oddly. It stood up and ran out of the camera's range (though no one knew the cameras were there so that was irrelevant), as if in fear of ... something.
Sayeh tabbed to the next scene, but the rest seemed to slide past her eyes, not making an impact in her mind. Interesting. Very interesting, she thought. It was a puzzle that felt terribly ominous to her. Something didn't sit right, and suddenly she realized that there was something terribly wrong with what had happened to that bug, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It unsettled her on a level that she couldn't describe. But every single warning flag, red alert and alarm bell had gone off in her mind. This was not normal, this was even more abnormal than what was going on here.
Trryhlin's "voice" spoke into her implant. "You saw the same thing I did," he said.
"What is it?" Sayeh asked, glancing at the displays to make sure Taai was flying all right. They were approaching the ameliorator now, which had just launched. One of its escort was covering them as they approached.
"We don't know. There are many theories, however. We know they are being mind-controlled by encrypted frequencies sent to devices implanted in their brains."
"Is the ship that carried them still in the air?"
"Yes, it is in the air, floating at the top of the sector directly below you."
"I'm going to go pulse it!" Sayeh said. She relayed the information over general comms.
"Why are they telling you these things, and not HG?" Matt Valentino demanded.
"For one, HG doesn't do shit, they expect us to put our lives on the line for them, but when we need them they're nowhere to be found. For two, I needed a communications link with the Praelor that was my main connection in Krenelia space so they gave me one. I had no idea it could go to my implant, too. This is a good thing, I think."
"What are you doing?" Matt asked.
"Going to pulse the carrier," said Sayeh.
"Can't," Matt rejoined, "there are still scores of Muzati and Muzano in the sector."
Muzati are primarily interdictors. Muzano interdict, hit as hard as Onati, drop bombs and drop pods full of ground Praelor," Sayeh responded, "I think they're too occupied with what's going on on the ground and among their own forces to worry about either us or that CTN ship."
"And too many damned CTN," Matt said, "if you time it wrong, you'll end up with your ship in pieces."
Sayeh spoke into the implant. "Trryhlin?"
"Sayeh."
"Can't do it. Too many Muzzies."
"I'm coming in."
"You and what damned army?" Sayeh muttered, but he didn't respond. "Fuck!" she said, slamming a hand on to the console. Repairs were done, so she took the controls back from Taai. "You heard that, Taai?" she asked, meaning the implant.
"I pinpointed its frequency. And cracked the code."
Sayeh sighed. "You're going to have to develop some scruples, Taai," she said.
"Oh what, why? That just complicates things."
"Oh, Taai," Sayeh said. "I can't talk your way out of everything."
"I never leave traces," Taai said.
"Oh, Taai," she said. "You, Ehnorrai, Kkhlyyr, Trryhlin. I seem to know all the people who think they're indestructible and cheerfully depend on dumb luck to pull off their escapades."
"Mmmhmmm," said Taai distractedly. "Maybe. I wouldn't know. Oh look, it's great one himself."
Trryhlin, followed by fifteen Onati, had jumped into the sector.
She muttered into her implants, "Great one, there aren't enough of you."
"Of course not. Was I supposed to conjure up an army? I can do that, but give me time."
"That's what I asked you," she said. And then a thought hit her. "You don't intend to die in here?" What was with everyone and their subconscious death wishes these days?
"Not if I can help it," he responded. "Pay attention to your controls."
There were CTN drone fighters bearing down on the BC. "Gun like motherfuckers," she said over the PA, scanned the display, and said, "53."
A minute later she slammed down the PA switch: "50 goddamned 3! Watch your fucking weapons locks! Are you fuckwits mental?" she yelled. Someone had hit one of Trryhlin's ships. It backed away and, with a stroke of bad luck, found that it had a swarm of CTN fighters closing in on it. CTN fighters are a problem for any ship to take out, powerful or not. But suddenly, Vindico Atrum jumped into the sector, and its weaponry immediately opened up on the drone fighters.
"Shoot the Potates!" Sayeh said, since they were free of the CTN drones for the moment. "Shoot the goddamn Potates! There are too many fucking Bzani in the sector!" If you can even call that a Potate, she thought.
"If you don't shoot the goddamn Potate I'm going to, oh shit we have to go pick up the fighters. Hold fire, idiots." She turned the big ship, bringing it near Outreach.
"You don't have time!" Maerlyn said over PA.
"What do you mean?" Sayeh asked.
"Trryhlin!" Sareela said. "Oh, God, Iyana ..."
She'd reverted to the old name the Krenelia had called Sayeh by, Iyana. Iyana. The name echoed strangely in Sayhe's head. But it was hers. Liani had called her by it first, "Iyana-ia," she had said, "welcome." And you instantly knew that you were in an ancient, powerful presence. But it wasn't intimidating, if anything her presence helped to center and calm you.
"What is it?" Sayeh said. And then she saw it.
"Trryhlin, get out of there!" she muttered furiously into her implant. What would happen to them if they lost him? What would happen to Kkhlyyr or Maria? What would ... Oh Jesus Christ, she thought, watching the missile platform bear down on Trryhlin. "Trryhlin!" she said desperately, "can you hear me?"
"It's all right," he said. "Iyana, it's ..." There was a burst of static. "... Khlyyr and ... I don't ..."
"Come back," she whispered, but all she got was static. "Goddamn you, you brave, wonderful, reckless idiot ..."
The fighters had finished docking. She turned the ship and piloted it headlong into the swirl of CTN drone fighters that surrounded Trryhlin and his opponent.
"You're mental, Sayeh!" Cianan said. "Go back! Go back!"
Sayeh pulled back. "Kkhlyyr," she said into her implant with a crying, dying desperation, "you're going to lose Trryhlin."
"I know."
She thought they couldn't manage emotion in their voices. Yet she'd never heard a voice sound more desolate in her life.
"Kkhlyyr, I ... don't know what to say."
There was a wash of static, and through it, thready and faint, "... You don't have to."
Why was this hitting her as hard as it did?
"Outreach's atmosphere is clear," Morpheus said to her. Sayeh turned the battle cruiser back and landed, aware that she had just abandoned Trryhlin, condemning him.
Sareela came into the room. "Are you OK?" she asked.
"No," Sayeh sighed. "I just abandoned Trryhlin. I'm not OK."
"There was nothing you could do," Sareela said.
"So many humans and Krenelia are going to die today," Sayeh said, "but it didn't have to end this way ..."
"We may think it doesn't ... But whether we actually had tried to prevent it, and you know no one did, it wouldn't have changed anything."
"Maybe you're right," said Sayeh.
"Um Sayeh?" Cianan said. "Kkhlyyr's in the sector."
"We can't do anything until we get reps," she said. She got up.
"The ground's not clear!"
"I'll run."
"But ..."
"Plus, I have a theory. If any of you put a toe outside this battle cruiser I'll stun you and put you on Rolu, because that's where Unorderly hangs out, and they'll be more likely to get you before your friends do."
"Hey!"
"OK, then I wouldn't go outside if I were you, hmmm?" she said. "Because Rolu is ground Frnalk central, and I don't think there's a distinguishable difference between them and Castor."
"Uh, Castor's not quite as ugly yet?" Maerlyn ventured.
She got up and went to the airlock. There were no Frnalk on the landing pad, but there were a group of the normal-looking Praelor, which was exactly what Sayeh wanted.
She stepped on to the landing pad. The Praelor glanced at her warily, but she made no move toward her turret or her ammo. She sank slowly down on to her heels and removed her translator from her pocket, but didn't reveal it yet.
"Trryhlin," she muttered, "are you there? Trryhlin, I need you."
"I'm here."
"Oh, thank Gods, you idiot, great one," she said. "Muzzi gone?"
"The last Muzati is gone, yes. More will come in, however. You have a very narrow window."
"Just to get out, not back in," Sayeh said.
"Of course."
She tabbed the key for short-range communications on her communicator and received only an error message. "But it won't be me going out. I want you to radio ... Billy James. In Galactic Storm. There's a comm jammer on the ground now, that's why short-range went quiet, I just tried to send something. Only special frequencies get through, different waves, like this, I want you to ask him to drop out of the sector, launch an interdictor, and pulse that carrier. Can you get back to me with his response?"
"Certainly." Moments later: "He's undocking from the ameliorator. He can do it. But Sayeh, he does not have much time. What is it like, on the ground?"
"LP's quiet for the moment. I don't have much time, either," she said. "I've got an idea. Get back to me with his results?"
"When he returns."
"Good." She revealed the translator. The biggest of the bugs eyed it. She thumbed it on and set it on the ground, aiming outward. She tabbed it to send to her implant rather than through its speaker.
She said through it, "I am Iyana. Sayeh Azhaani." The dark depressions in one side of the device irised open and turned on the Praelor nearest her, apparently the leader of this team.
"I know that your controller can hear me," she said. "And it could be my death so I will speak quickly. The rogue CTN and the Frnalk will learn to fear the sight of Hope, for them, there will not be Hope. There will be Sayeh. I am their azhaani now." Iyana, she had been told, meant hope. If they have named me Hope, she had thought, what if I let them down ..."
"The carrier's frequencies have just gone silent," Trryhlin reported. "Kkhlyyr has informed Hale to jam them." There was a moment of silence, then: "Galactic Storm is back."
"Good," she subvocalized into her implant. Then she said: "The carrier that brought you and forced you into servility has been pulsed. Their communications have been jammed, in case they come online again. High Guard will probably come by soon to retrieve it. You are free."
The translator activated as the bug leader sent to it and said: "We are in your debt, Iyana. Liani knew that you would bear your name well."
Liani. They knew Liani. What if they were Krenelia or, something more horrible had happened than even she had guessed.
She turned away, not willing to look at him. Not if I die, she thought.
"There's no plan," she said after a moment's silence. "Actually, we're making it up as I go along." She sat back on her heels, relaxing slightly, keeping her eyes on the lead Praelor, whose eyes tracked any and every movement. His reflexes were far faster than any human's. She would know if something happened, and she had more senses than five. She was alert on every level, waiting as tensely as they were.
"We know there is a Nexus in the sector." It was a good thing the translator said Nexus; the many-layered compound had too many meanings, so many that it would probably translate to a long, convoluted sentence that meant about fifteen different things if they hadn't changed it.
"Kkhlyyr," said Sayeh. "I have to go back to the BC and bring out the ground crew. Don't worry about it, they are all ... of my network. None will shoot you. Kkhlyyr will be in contact with you soon. Spread the word." She stood up. "Are there Frnalk ships on the ground?"
"No," one of them said. "They come down in pods."
"How many?" she asked. "So far."
The Praelor considered. "Several hundred in the city alone. I cannot guess at what the rest of the planet has suffered."
"Atomics?" Sayeh asked.
"Surely not," a tiny blue-hued creature said.
"Very possibly," their leader said. "This is CTN we are dealing with, not just the Frnalk. They do not need atomics, but it would amuse their more ruthless commanders to use them."
"You can sense radiation, can't you?"
"If the CTN have used atomics here, the radiation has not reached the city yet. I have not passed through any hot zones."
He turned his head suddenly, so fast it was nearly a blur. A huge dull red shape flowed toward them. Sayeh had her turret out and was firing with a quickness born of instinct and years of practice, the sort of speed that only those who grow up in war seem to possess. There was a scramble of legs and wings and Sayeh had to put away her turret and scoop up her translator and duck into the airlock. When she was safe inside, she noticed Maerlyn peering out, watching.
"Static," he said/sent, his mind touching sayehs and then moving outwards, seeking something, anything like a mind in the redness approaching them.
You can't do anything, Sayeh, she told herself sternly. This is no longer a world you know anything about. If you go back out there, like this, you will most certainly die ...
The age of humanity is over.
She could feel the voice more than she could hear it, as it boomed through every sound-conducting surface on the face of each alliance's capital planet.
The age of Ttanna'in'Ghrria has begun.
She didn't know what that meant, but it sounded harsh and dark and some instinct in her screamed that it was wrong and horrible ...
The madness, the triviality, the utter waste of Humanity must be ended. Those races loyal to galactic balance cannot allow such a discordant, decadent race to continue.
"And you, whatever you are," Maerlyn's voice chiming in her head, nearly as powerful as the previous voice, causing her to wonder exactly how powerful her adopted brother was, "you with all your power, even you have no right. Who are you to judge us? If you destroy us, what would make you so much better than those you judge?"
"That which does not become part of the one must become void," the first voice replied.
"There are exceptions," Maerlyn sent, "there are those of us who have risen above the hate and bloodshed and fear of anything not their own. We're living creatures, capable of love, of understanding. You can't just ..."
"There are no exceptions," the first voice rejoined, "you destroy anything you touch. You take everything you're presented with and utilize it for destruction. There are no exceptions."
It, whatever it is, is right, Sayeh thought, with a sudden, sickening realization. We are only one of so many blights on the galaxy. We rape and burn and kill, pillaging everything of true power from other races and claiming it as our own. We have no thought for the lives we destroy. We have no thought for the sheer evil we so unthinkingly breed, like infection in a wound. Killing us would not begin to atone for what we have done.
Sayeh collapsed and wept, her mind spinning with images of places she could never know, with thoughts too cold and alien to be her own.
We are a race of passion and greed, she thought through the mental roar, casting her thought out into the roiling darkness of minds. We are a race of madness, fear, hate and anger. And like any race, we have exceptions ... except for us, good is the exception.
"No, Sayeh," a quiet soothing voice spoke in her head, and the alien coldness was forced back by a force of unbreakable steel willpower, which contrasted harshly with the sweet, musical voice which Sayeh recognized immediately as Maria shadowblade's. "Some of my ancestors were humans, and braver more honorable people you could not have found anywhere. Humanity is no worse or no better than any other race in the galaxy. Calm down now, and do not listen to lies mixed with half truths." But the force was still there, beating franticly against the iron bands of Maria's will, and suddenly, Sayeh felt another presence, cool, detached, and determined. this third presence wrapped itself quickly around Maria's, and, just as her mind seemed to begin to bend, pulled it out, brutally severing the tenuous link which Maria had formed with Sayeh and drawing Maria's mind behind impregnable shielding. In the moment of utter calm before the relentless alien voices began to beat at her again, Sayeh had time to think, "that was not Caiden."
"And you," Maerlyn sent, "do you not create weapons? You ended God knows how many innocent lives when you destroyed High Guard Command in sector 24. Even more innocents have gone into the black hole you left behind. And then you wiped out an entire alliance. Are you not even more destructive than you're accusing us of being?"
"You destroy without thought," the first voice again, "you are hopelessly divided, even against yourselves. You kill your own kind without a second thought, yet when you are threatened with extinction, you temperarily ally with the very ones you would otherwise destroy. Your race must not contaminate the universe any further."
"And you destroy with thought?" Maerlyn sent, "you, who have killed more in a single stroke than all the battles in the Org wars put together? You, who created the deadliest weapon ever encountered in the universe, in the name of peace?"
"Your race has stolen from us," the voice that represented the Static returned, "stole from us to create weapons more destructive than anything known to it."
"And so for stealing, you intend to wipe us all out?" Maerlyn inquired, "where's the justice in that?"
"You, who destroy your own, dare to speak of justice?" the static said, disbelief seeming to enter the voice at this point, "you who know not justice?"
"Wait!" Maerlyn sent, but the connection was severed, the communication ended.
"No," Sayeh murmured. "No, no, no ..."
She didn't realize she was talking into her implant until she heard Trryhlin's voice, pitched specially to quiet, level, calming tones, tilted so that it would get her attention: "Sayeh, what happened? Sayeh. Talk to me. Sayeh!"
She almost couldn't gather up the energy to respond. "Trryhlin ..." she murmured. Consciousness was slipping. Every time something even a little stressful happened she collapsed. She gasped. "Help me ... I ... don't know ..."
She felt the battle cruiser lift off. 15 was in a lull between attacks, but no one was enjoying the brief respite.
"I can't," he said. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if she even heard him.
Someone picked her up, placing her on the bed in the control room.
"There will be no anchor," she said.
"Hold on," Trryhlin said. "I have an idea."
"What?"
"Ehnorrai," he said.
She made no comment. Her silence was enough.
"Ehnorrai is a balancing influence. But this will be tricky, because you can't anchor to Ehnorrai, and no one even needs to start on why."
"Then ...?"
She felt the tilt of descent. "We're landing on Empanda." It was Maerlyn.
"Can you get to 35? We haven't suffered a massive attack yet."
"Maerlyn ... Go find Feather ... Take us to 35," she said weakly.
Maerlyn and Cianan picked her up and carried her down to the expediter. Sayeh revived somewhat and shooed them out, piloting the little ship out of the battle cruiser's docking bay. The bright blue mouth of the wormhole opened and swallowed the little mote that was Feather. The expy was called Feather for a reason.
As Sayeh's Expediter departed, Maerlyn boarded his own, Miria. He knew that if he was to do anything to even begin executing the plan he'd begun forming when High Guard had taken Lilly Marie, it was to be now. He jumped into sector 15, subwarping to the coordinates from which he could land on Empanda, powered Miria down, garaged it, and entered Sapphire And Steel.
Sayeh landed the delicate little ship and sat silently for a minute, gathering her strength. There was a light tapping on the hull.
"Either come out or unlock, if you can," Trryhlin said.
Sayeh climbed wearily to her feet and stumbled out on to the docking bay. Ehnorrai and Trryhlin were there. Ehnorrai stood upright so that he could look her in the eye, but he was two inches taller than she was. "Look at me, Sayeh," the deep, resonant voice, pitched to calming tones, said.
Sayeh looked up to meet the fathomless, dark eyes, and stopped in amazement. It looked almost like there were galaxies of lights whirling against a stunning flawless, dark backdrop in Ehnorrai's huge, faceted eyes. It wasn't like the lit glow of phase. It was like looking out into space. It was vast and echoing, terrifying and awesome, like a well of pure blackness flecked with hard, cold fire, blue, white, red, yellow ... She stepped back slightly.
"This is what it means to see all times," he said simply. However he projected his voice was beyond her, because it was flawless. It was a voice like space, a voice like darkness itself. But it was not evil, and there was no ill intent in it. There was only power and age. Standing in front of Ehnorrai was like standing in front of Liani, yet it was completely different. Liani's presence was like a fountain of light. Ehnorrai was the absence thereof. And he was so very ancient ...
"I can't help you permanently," he said. She had trouble remembering that "he" was neither, because they had chosen a male voice for him. "You are a particularly unique case, too unlike one and too unlike the other to connect as far as anyone can tell." Sayeh noticed absently that he was cold, no heat seemed to come off him, like most living things. "But there is a connection that a Nexus makes that is for a different purpose. I can only define it in ..." His voice switched from English to something that reminded Sayeh of icy water over jagged rocks, filled with falling vowels and inward-sliding consonants, fricatives and clicks, trilled double consonants and odd, rhythmic cadences, beat beat beat ... beat ... beat beat beat ... beat ... went the rhythm.
He stopped. "My translator has informed me that it finds no suitable interpretation." There was something almost like a sigh. "I can't explain it, then, I can only show you." He dropped back down, moving toward the airlock iris with surprising speed.
They moved through the mazes of dimly-lit, uneven tunnels for what seemed like centuries. Everywhere there was more tunnel, stretching and looping in convoluted configurations whose purpose escaped Sayeh. She stopped trying to keep track of the turns and loops and instead focused on keeping up with Ehnorrai. Being back here seemed to have gilen her energy again, enough to cushion her temporarily against the effects of being suspended in phase.
They reached a room whose center was what looked like a shimmering pool.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Living, liquid crystal," he said. "We use it as a linking mechanism, due to crystal's wonderful energy-conducting properties." He went to the edge of the pool and stepped in, quickly sinking far enough that only his eyes showed.
"You go in, too," said Trryhlin. "There are two sides to it, due to its alignment." The pool was almost butterfly-shaped, if you thought of a very abstract butterfly, or a very abstract figure eight, or a very abstract combination of both.
"It's not acidic," he said. "It's crystalline. Literally. Its nature is very complicated."
She stepped gingerly into the other side of the pool. It was surprisingly cool to the touch, but not cold. As she went further into it, she realized it was a very buoyant substance, and deeper than she'd expected at first.
She sank in on her back, so that she could keep her face just high enough above the water to breathe. She fluttered her hands, adjusting her position with the easy unconscious movements of someone in her element. Sayeh had always loved the water, moving easier in it than she did on land, and this acted the same to the touch, except it was more dense. It eased the strain on her warped back.
"Station's mind will initiate linkup now," said Trryhlin from above her. "It's really generally quite harmless, if a little playful. So, was
And there it was, a cascade of bright colors entering her thoughts. It chattered at her, cascading color through her mind. And then it drew the two minds together.
It played and cascaded across the connection, bright delightful yellows and greens like dappled sunlight as it wove like a busy spider. Sayeh had forgotten her body where it floated gently in the crystal, forgotten Trryhlin standing quietly in the room beside her, forgotten that she was suspended painfully in phase. This was something else entirely.
And then a great rainbow of colors blossomed in her mind, station's mind preening in satisfaction. It chattered in color and symbols, and she got the gist of it. The connection is complete, a strong white line between two structures, one gold and white, the other outlined in dark blues. Open your eyes, a single stylized white eye, opening wide.
She opened her eyes to a flood of sensation. Contact was electric and sudden, the newfound connection seeking purchase in both of them, until it found its place anchored in the foundations of their minds. And then it was complete and Sayeh floated face-up against the living crystal, whose gentle, careful currents held her safely. For a time it seemed as if she were nearly weightless, almost insubstantial. Slowly, substance and weight returned. She rose from the pool, feeling oddly refreshed, every muscle relaxed but ready for any movement, balance perfect, mind cleared and calm.
Ehnorrai had already gotten out of the deep crystal pool that station's mind communicated through, and had stood looking at the tiny, slim floating figure of Sayeh Azhaani as she returned slowly from the shock of connection. Now she seemed like a Nexus, she had the presence of one, anyway. But how long the strength of the connection would last, as unusual as it was, was hard for anyone to say. Sayeh couldn't explain it, only station's mind could, and it had tried, but the concepts were too alien for Sayeh to interpret. And that was just part of only the mental half of what a full connection would be like. But for now, that was impossible.
Reaching out to another's mind is like pushing your own thoughts outward, as if there is a bridge between you and someone else. Communicating this way requires a direct, concentrated beam of thought. However, with a connection you would only have to extend your awareness outward slightly, until it brushed against the minds in some way connected to you. It's a concept you wouldn't understand until you've tried it and succeeded. And then there would be no way to convey it to someone else.
"Sayeh," Trryhlin said. "How did it go?"
"Better than I'd expected, for something so experimental."
He seemed almost visibly relieved. Maybe she was getting better at reading Praelor expressions, what there was of them, anyway. "Good, because they need you in the sky."
Ehnorrai looked at her. Their eyes met, solid blue against fathomless, star-spangled black.
"I do not know what being connected to my mind will do to you," he said quietly. "It is likely to be as much a burden for you as a blessing, as it is not the usual kind of connection you would have with me in a network. Kkhlyyr is my Nexus, and this is an odd connection. ... I think that the results will be ... quite unusual. I will not keep you any longer ..." He stood up again, forming some intricate angular sign that Sayeh didn't remember yet, and left them. Sayeh and Trryhlin made their way to her ship in silence.
"What was it he said to me?" she asked.
"It is ..." Trryhlin stopped and thought for a moment. "My translator informs me that it cannot be interpreted, and I can think of no suitable explanation. It is odd that Ehnorrai directed it to you ..."
"Can you at least explain part of it?" she asked.
"The sign of connection, of High Balance achieved, of completion," Trryhlin said. "Ehnorrai has been looking for something, missing something you might say ... and whatever it was, you showed it to him." Apparently there was no "it, without calling you it" word, not one that could be translated. "Humans are a very openly emotional race, but your emotions are chaotic ... I could not tell you what he meant by it even if I knew. If he wants to, he will tell you one day."
Sayeh went into her expediter. When she stepped into her apartment, everyone could tell she was different, deeper, more centered and assured. She brought an air of calm strength into the room with her.
"We're going back in," she said.
She seemed indestructible. Her mind, cleared and centered by the equalizing presence of Ehnorrai, seemed to move along precise lines and angles at speeds none of the others could manage, and it was all subconscious thought; all that came to her conscious mind were the results of it. This made sense, because Ehnorrai was all but designed to know, intimately, the relations between space and all the objects moving therein. It wasn't a computer or something inside of a drive that bent time, made gates, folded space, it was the ship's mind and Ehnorrai, working in tandem. Lent that ability, in space Sayeh was a force to be reckoned with. The Ontanka and the Frnalk certainly couldn't keep up with her intricate, subtle maneuvering. Even the CTN were having problems with her. Azhaani became a word her enemies knew and feared, it was more than a name, it was reverted to its original meaning in human form.
But Sayeh's own troubles weren't over yet. Whatever governs fate had an even greater role in mind for her in the unfolding conflict than she could have imagined ...
It was a room similar to thousands of such rooms used throughout the ages of humanity's bloody evolution, but it had its specicfic oddities, for it had contained many an unusual and unwilling guest in High Guard's command base on Rolukksica. Its most recent occupant, weakened, malnourished, overstressed and severely wounded, had died in childbirth. None of her offspring had survived more than a few hours. The room had then been sterilized and put to another use, in some ways more unusual but equally as terrible as its previous function.
Its floor, walls and ceiling were metal-lined, making it like a low steel box. It had a single door, set three and a half feet above the floor. One entered the room via a single block of concrete set below the doorway, which sank into the floor as soon as you'd stepped off of it, entering or exiting. Yet there were several odd things about it, a sophisticated-looking ventilation system in its ceiling, odd-looking sensor panels shielded by an extremely durable, dense transparent material, and a small panel that slid back so things could be moved in and out via robotic arm. There was a grate in the floor, with a narrow, soft-bottomed space beneath it. In certain circumstances the grate would open, and the bottom would tilt slowly into a steeper and steeper slope so that anything that fell in would slide gently to whatever was at the bottom. And something did fall in occasionally, a collection of tiny living (or sometimes at this point dead) somethings, squeaking and chittering and clicking piteously.
They never lived very long, anyway.
The most telltale sign of the room's use were what looked like scorch marks marring its metal surfaces.
Right now it contained something other than its usual occupant. A little girl, barely a year and a half old, lay curled up on her side, her tear-stained face hidden by her thick, dark curls. Every now and then she twitched slightly, but otherwise you would have to look carefully to see the rise and fall of her chest that showed she was still breathing. Her backpack, which contained a Lore computer sewed into the lining by Maerlyn, lay nearby, her discarded shirt in tatters beneath her curled body. One had to look closely to realize the reddish-greenish stains on the cloth, stains that seemed to have melted it through in some places where it hadn't been cut off her body, were bloodstains. And then one had to wonder at the color, and the apparent effect ... Her back was wrapped in thick white bandages, but if she was in pain she made no sound, as was customary. Something buried in her mind strictly clamped down on any urge to cry, any need to show pain or emotion, any sound that she might make.
The door opened. The little girl looked up with huge, nearly-faceted, whiteless blue on dark, dark blue eyes. She watched silently as a human figure entered. Since it was encased in light armor, the only thing you could tell about it was that it was short, maybe five-three. It approached the little girl with a long, glittering needle in its hand. Desperately she tried to wriggle away, but something was obstructing her movement, the needle sank into her arm, and she lay still.
The figure quickly unwrapped the unusual child's bandages. The child's back was slick-smooth, slightly waxy-feeling, and splashed with bright, shining color, but even stranger than that, a pair of tiny, still-damp shimmering wings fluttered free, catching the light and shining with it.
The lightly-armored figure straightened. Now the light shone through the faceplate on to the pale countenance of a woman with terrible sharp, birdlike features, glittering dark eyes, and long black hair swept back from a widow's-peak and held out of her face by an intricate silver-and-hematite clip.
The child knew this face, or rather, a race memory deep within her knew this face. It was a hated, feared face, so very human-like yet so far from truly human.
Her people had named this woman Lunnai, evil incarnate.
