13. Immigration Duty
In a place that was not a place, home of impossible colours, non-Euclidean geometries, and a dozen other Lovecraftian clichés, the Data Integration Thought Entity resided, observing the universe with dispassionate mechanical curiosity.
The invaders' area of influence had expanded significantly in a short period of time, making limited use of Haruhi Suzumiya's powers to affect systems in an ever-widening sphere around Earth. The Sol system itself was almost unrecognisable, a festering sore in the mathematical purity of space. Gigantic, bizarre architecture stretched between its planets, shipyards and war factories built on an unprecedented scale, kept in one piece only by gross violations of the laws of physics.
After much debate, the dispute among the Entity's Interfaces, Administrators, and other components had concluded. Though it was agreed that expulsion of the invaders and alliance with the TSAB and its associates would be the wisest course of action, the Entity was unwilling to tip its metaphorical hand with an overt assault straight away, instead reporting hostile troop movements to the Bureau and concealing their scout vessels from the enemy.
The thing was, though most simulations the Entity had run indicated a high probability of success when running a deletion operation against the forces of Chaos, such an action would also eliminate their potential usefulness. As things stood, the Bureau had a mostly-reliable (and more importantly, secret) source of intelligence around which to prepare their counteroffensive, and the Entity itself had the opportunity to study phenomena far outside its existing knowledge-base. In particular, the 'warp-energy' that Chaos was fond of using was proving most interesting.
There had been... resistance, though. Despite the decision being encoded as a behavioural edict, a number of Interfaces tasked with observing Earth had cooperated with Bureau agents to evacuate several thousand humans (primarily espers and stranded time-travellers) from that planet in the few days before it had been completely engulfed.
Such a hostile, overt, and above all premature action was a grievous breach of protocol, a form of treason in fact (insofar as it had a concept of treason). The Entity had been forced to conclude that the Interfaces in question had malfunctioned, and had deleted those it could, erasing their backups as well in case the aberrance had spread. One of the units had presented a problem, though – specifically, the renegade Humanoid Interface Yuki Nagato.
On the one hand, said Interface had been the likely instigator of the rebellion, and had more than enough transgressions to her name to warrant deletion ten times over besides (in fact, even her self-identification with a gender-determinate pronoun was a fairly worrying sign). On the other, she was under the protection of a being who had explained in no uncertain terms that harming her would result in swift and apocalyptic retribution. Faced with this dilemma, the Entity had elected to contain her in a secure data vault pending further developments. So far, this had worked reasonably well, as evidenced by the continued existence of the Entity and, indeed, the universe as a whole.
Its etheric sensors picked up a space-time distortion of a familiar pattern – more ships were arriving from the invaders' home dimension. There were six of them, smaller, more ungainly, and lighter-armed than the warships that had thus far preceded them. Freighters, perhaps, or survey vessels. They were already recharging their warp-engines, and judging by their trajectory, they were headed for TSAB territory.
After a nanosecond's deliberation, the Entity alerted its Interfaces on Mid-Childa.
***
The Deep Space Surveillance department of the Navigation Bureau was a fairly small outfit crammed into several of the less desirable compartments of the TSAB's enormous, spaceborne central office. Its staff were considered an odd bunch even by Bureau standards, spending most of their time wrestling with needlessly complex astrophysical equations and fiddling with their instrumentation, a bizarre hotchpotch of gleaming ultramodern technology, obsolete junk, and barely-understood Ancient Belkan artefacts.
They were not, in short, the sort of people one would expect to become a collective lynchpin of a pan-dimensional intervention procedure, but in the past few weeks, that was exactly what they had become. Their list of duties had expanded rapidly, ranging from skimming energy readings off neighbouring universes to performing long-range surveys of the Great Wall.
In all that time, though, they had never had a request like this.
"I'm sorry, sir, but can you please repeat that?" Dr. Solara Kamri asked, hoping that he'd misheard.
"Six Chaos vessels are either approaching Bureau territory or have already entered it," the High Command comms officer said again, sounding almost indecently bored given the situation. "We want you to find them. Will that be a problem?"
"Umm... no," Kamri replied. "It might be a bit difficult, but I think we can manage it. Can I get you an update in the next half-hour, please?"
"That would be acceptable," the comms officer agreed, severing the link with a haughty disdain that managed to convey itself all the way to the DSS department office.
The scientist sagged back in his chair. Explaining to one's superiors (particularly the formidable Fleet Admiral Thundra) that what they were asking for was impossible was not a course of action conducive to job security. That said, attempting to produce a miracle in thirty minutes wouldn't exactly be conducive to his mental wellbeing, either.
Sometimes, Kamri wished he could just fade back into obscurity.
"Rejoice, people," he said, turning to his waiting staff, "it's needle-in-a-haystack time."
One of the senior techs winced. "Oh, Kaiser's blood, we're not going to be enumerating quasars again, are we?"
Kamri grinned mirthlessly. "Nope. Better. We're going to be tracking fleet movements. Specifically, six ships of indeterminate size which may or may not all be together at the moment."
The tech's jaw dropped. "But that's-"
"Impossible? Welcome to five minutes ago, Touran." He clapped his hands. "Move it, folks – we have a job to do."
The DSS team scattered to their posts – all except for Touran, who was still staring at her boss incredulously.
"Chief, do we even have some sort of identifier for these ships? Anything at all that might distinguish them from your average background radiation?"
Kamri pondered this. "Well, I hear their dimensional drives are pretty weird. That might help. One moment – I'll go make a call. In the meantime, you hold the fort."
She inclined her head in acquiescence. "You owe me, chief."
Think I'm going to be hearing a lot of that soon, he thought to himself as he wandered back to his quarters.
Once inside, he opened a link to an old friend now serving on the Eventide.
Fred, you there?
Sol, you old dog! Long time no see! I presume this isn't a social call?
'Fraid not – sorry, Fred. Got a bit of a problem over here, and I need the combat logs from your ship. Specifically, any intel you picked up on Chaos warships.
Wait, are you seriously telling me that you want to obtain under-the-counter copies of classified information? Quartermaster Sergeant Jones asked reproachfully. I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Sol.
Sorry, Fred, I just thought-
A man could get in a lot of trouble doing that, you know.
Yes, yes, I-
And I obviously can't get involved – I have a family to consider, after all. We both do.
Look, forget I said-
Which is why I'm going to have to ask you to strenuously avoid your computer's inbox for the next few minutes. Can't have you catching a glimpse of something you shouldn't, after all.
Kamri breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks, Fred.
Don't mention it. No, seriously, don't – I'm not too keen on spending the rest of my life in an orbital detention facility, you know.
There was a brief pause.
Does Mrs. Kamri still do those delectable chocolate chip biscuits, though? I ask merely out of curiosity.
The doctor smiled broadly. I'll have her cook up a batch just for you, Fred.
He cut the link, and checked the inbox. Sure enough, the logs were there. One quick mnemonic charm later, and they were in his head as well. That done, he deleted the electronic copy. One should always cover one's footprints, after all.
Things had not progressed far when he returned to the DSS office. Touran gave him a weary mock-salute as he entered, the hapless junior tech she'd been berating temporarily forgotten.
"Any pearls of wisdom to dispense on this little conundrum, oh glorious leader?" she asked acidly.
No respect, I tell you... "Actually, yes, I do. I looked over the data – you didn't hear me say that, by the way – and those ships seem to have a dimensional signature roughly akin to a small, mobile patch of Chaotic Space. You know, like when those moron ecoterrorists on Varduk Prime pressed the wrong button on their shiny new Belkan superweapon."
Touran brightened up. "A localised breach? That's actually... kind of feasible. Maybe if we fine-tune a couple of the Farsight relays, wake up the Warped Mirror... yeah, we can do this. We can actually do this!"
The junior tech raised a hand, understandably hesitant to reinvite his superior's wrath. "Umm... sirs? There might be a bit of a problem if you want to use the Mirror. We ran out of live blowfish yesterday, and I'm not sure where to get more."
"Try the seafood restaurant on the second deck," Kamri suggested absently. "They should have something close enough. Ladies and gentlemen, we are back in business!"
***
TSAB Naval Command was a veritable hive of activity, aides, technicians, and flunkies scurrying to and fro with near-panicked urgency as they attempted to coordinate a pan-dimensional mobilisation involving no less than four major interstellar civilisations. In the midst of it all, the desk of Fleet Admiral Sagitar Thundra, commander of Operation Guardian and de facto leader of the entire intervention, was a veritable island of calm, in that only one person was shouting at any one time and he generally knew what he was doing.
"Wilson, have those pasty longhairs in DSS found those bloody ships yet?" he demanded in the strident tone of a man who had never heard of the term 'indoor voice'.
Commander Albert Wilson (real name: Carlton Firenza, but nobody called him that any more) polished his monocle nervously. Said monocle wasn't medically required, strictly speaking, but Wilson felt he had an image to maintain. Everyone in the Bureau had their own little eccentricities, and if his most efficient aide clung firmly to the belief that he was some sort of British manservant (whatever that was – the admiral had never been terribly interested in Earthborn culture), then who was Thundra to judge? Other than his commanding officer, of course, and entitled to all the judging he could muster, but he mostly chose to ignore that.
"Yes, sir. Four minutes ago, to be exact. At the time of the report, two of them were in dimensional space near Universe Sigma-Nine, and did not appear to be going anywhere soon. The other four remain unaccounted for."
Thundra shook his leonine head. "Wonderful. Bloody wonderful. We got any ships in that region?"
"I believe the Second and Third Fleets are patrolling in the general area, sir."
"Good. Send them in to intercept. All of them."
"... All of them, sir?"
"One ship blasted a quarter of a galaxy into submission. Who knows what two are capable of? No risks, Wilson."
"Understood, sir."
As his aide bustled off, Thundra stared at the display. Where did the others go?
***
The Iruel-class transports were decades ahead of their time – literally, in fact, thanks to a cloned workforce and judicious use of warp-magic. They were the heralds of what was to come, a vast armada that would claim the multiverse in the name of Chaos. The gods now faced (or rather, were preparing to face) genuine opposition – no longer could they limit themselves, dealing with threats and opportunities on their own terms.
That wasn't to say, though, that they had completely abandoned subtlety.
"Release payload," the commander rasped through his altered voicebox.
He watched in satisfaction as the clone-servitors manning the bridge did as he commanded, their augmented limbs operating the various consoles with mathematical efficiency. This voyage was as much a test for them as it was for the ships they crewed, and so far they were functioning with steady, unimaginative competence – precisely what they had been designed for, in fact.
The transport's cargo bay opened, revealing row upon row of needle-like craft. One by one, they launched, their thrusters flaring in the silence of dimensional space, and took up formation around their parent vessel.
Antennae extended from the hull, mapping out the surrounding universes. At a gesture from the commander, a string of co-ordinates was downloaded into each of the needle-ships. They set off to their destinations, their null-fields and ECM systems activating to conceal them from sensors both magical and technological.
"Payload deployed," he reported. "What about you, Kowalski?"
"Sent all mine off as well," the commander of their sister-vessel responded. "The other ships?"
He checked his console. "One sec... green across the board. Mission success. Time to leave, folks."
"No argument here," Kowalski agreed. "Hey, did you get a look inside the cryopods on those things?"
"Nope – fused with the chair a couple of days ago. Kind of restricts my movements. You know how it is. What was in there?"
"Scary stuff, man. Scary stuff. Almost feel sorry for the poor sods we're unleashing 'em on."
"They decided to oppose the gods. Their fault."
"Right. Jumping in three – you ready?"
"Way ahead of you. As always."
With that, the two transports left Bureau space as abruptly as they had arrived. A few minutes later, those sent to New Republic and Spiral Nation territory did likewise.
***
"They're retreating, sir," Wilson reported.
"Can we catch them?" Thundra asked.
"Our ships are certainly faster, but they have a significant lead. We would be dangerously extending a significant portion of our forces for questionable gain."
"Fair point – the Eventide reports did say they're fond of playing it sneaky. Pull the fleets back – no risks. Still no sign of the others?"
"I'm afraid not, sir."
The admiral growled in frustration as only a military officer pushing retirement could. "Just what the hell were they up to?"
"Hard to be sure, sir. It may have just been a simple scouting mission. DSS observed a small dimensional ripple, but that might have been a side-effect of the drives they're using. Even with the data provided by the Entity, we really don't know that much about their technology."
Thundra shook his head. "Too many 'may's and 'might's, Wilson. Is it too much to ask for a war where I have some idea of the enemy's motives and capabilities?"
He looked up again, a sour smile on his face.
"What was the next thing on their schedule? Ah, yes, those Spiral maniacs are sending over a techie of their own. Leeron or something. Just file him under 'big, loud, and unhealthily obsessed with drills', will you? Covers most of those idiots to a tee. Besides, we have more important things to attend to."
"Yes, sir. Would you like some scones?"
"Wilson..."
"Sorry, sir."
***
Luke Skywalker sat up in bed, sweating. He had seen something in his dreams, a dark rain descending upon the galaxy. He looked inside, but it was gone. Beside him, Mara stirred and muttered a sleepy, unintelligible question.
"Nothing, dear. Just a nightmare."
I hope.
***
In the hills above the Spiral capital, a shadowy figure watched the city through silver-hued, augmented eyes. He was dressed like a hiker, with a long bag slung over his shoulder. This made sense, because the man he had taken the clothes from had been a hiker. Now, though, that man was naked at the bottom of a riverbed, a bullet through his brain. The area's indigenous carnivores would dispose of him soon enough.
The new arrival wasn't just admiring the view, though it was no doubt spectacular. Lines, symbols, letters, and numbers danced in front of his vision, mapping out roads, vantage points, and important buildings, which were then stored, pristine, in his eidetic memory. In less than thirty seconds, he had calculated lines of attack and infiltration for anything from a small special-forces team to several armoured regiments.
The gods' signal had not come yet, but he wanted to be ready when it did.
***
Stella Kei was wandering aimlessly through Mid-Childa's main shopping district, soaking in the atmosphere of the bustling metropolis. It had been a tough day at the office, and she was in the mood for some nice, soothing retail therapy.
She was walking past one of the district's innumerable side-alleys when something long, black, and vaguely serpentine shot out, wrapping itself around her nose and mouth and dragging her off the street. She couldn't fight or scream – in fact, she could barely breathe. Outside the alley, shoppers wandered past, quite unaware of what was going on scant metres away.
A hand plunged into her forehead, creating a strange tingling feeling. After a few moments, it withdrew, and an impossibly sharp blade slashed across her throat.
Her corpse sagged in her captor's grip, and was dragged back further into the alley. Five minutes and some unpleasantly organic noises later, Stella Kei walked out as if nothing had happened. An attentive observer might have noticed that she'd put on a little weight, but that was about it.
As her victim's body was rapidly broken down by her powerful stomach acids, the Divine Assassin consulted her stolen memories. Stella had been a junior clerk attached to a unit called the First Expeditionary Force, under one Colonel Hayate Yagami. The ones who made first contact with us... She smiled, silently praising Tzintchi for her good fortune.
This should be very interesting.
Author's Notes: Welcome back for another week, and another three chapters, as the preparations for war truly get underway. Reviews as welcome as ever.
