Messiah (8 page)

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Authors: S. Andrew Swann

BOOK: Messiah
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“But I . . .” Her words trailed off, swallowed by the silence in the surrounding desert.
Rebecca heard Dacham whisper, “You
did
die.”
“Your Dominic didn’t die at GA&A. He died when he crossed the event horizon of a wormhole in the 61 Cygni system.”
Tetsami shook her head and brandished the remote control in her hand. The resignation in her voice was frightening. “I should set this off on general principles. Just for you playing God with all of us.”
“Everyone tries to play God,” the AI responded. “It’s just that some are better at it than others.”
If the tone in her voice was frightening, the grin that suddenly crossed her face was even more so. “You arrogant SOB. You know the
real
reason I ain’t blowing us all into orbit?” The AIs didn’t respond immediately, and Tetsami’s voice rose almost an octave, near hysteria. “Come on, you and you predictive psychology should be able to figure that one out.”
The AI Mosasa finally responded, and in his voice Rebecca could sense a tentative fear. “You’ve decided that it isn’t worth it to take your own life for the sake of revenge?”
He doesn’t know,
Rebecca thought,
and that frightens him.
Tetsami laughed. “Not even close.” She walked up and picked up the case that was lying on the ground between her and the AIs. “The reason we’re not a smoking crater is because this happens to be my luggage. And this,” she held out the hand with the remote, “is my hotel key.”
Tetsami turned and walked away.
Dacham watched the memory of Tetsami leave and asked, “She lived?”
“Through this version of events,” said Rebecca’s Mosasa.
Dacham shook his head, “Why bother showing me this?”
“It is relevant to your cooperation with us,” Mosasa said as the spaceship graveyard dissolved around them, leaving them inside a vast cathedral-like space.
“How?”
Mosasa shocked Rebecca by saying, “Because your one-time lover still lives, at least in the same sense I do.”
Dacham just gaped at him. Rebecca glanced around the building Mosasa had brought them to, and as she recognized the place, she began to understand.
Mosasa spread his arms in a grand gesture and said, “Welcome to the Hall of Minds.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Denominations
“If you leave an enemy alive, you better leave him something to live for.”

The Cynic’s Book of Wisdom
 
“Diplomacy is simply war by another name.”
—SYLVIA HARPER
(2008-2081)
Date: 2526.8.4 (Standard) 350,000 km from Bakunin-BD+50°1725
The
Wisconsin
was one of hundreds of self-contained orbital habitats clustering around Bakunin, outside the free-fire zone the PSDC had established from geosynchronous orbit on down. It orbited Schwitzguebel, Bakunin’s larger moon. It was one of the many places that Toni had contacted when the
Daedalus
tached in to this nightmare over a month ago. Back then, as the system was just being overwhelmed with refugee craft, they had denied docking privileges.
Things had changed.
The
Wisconsin
hovered in the display before her, a massive construct larger than the 3SEC Command Platform orbiting Styx. The heart of it was a prism defined by three two-kilometer-long parallel tubes, their cross-sections arranged to center on the vertices of an equilateral triangle. The tubes were connected by a complex network of scaffolding that kept the enclosed tubes fixed relative to each other and spinning around a common axis through the center of its triangular cross-section. As it turned, Toni saw sunlight glitter off of hectares of windows, all pointed toward the center of rotation. Surrounding it, thousands of mirrors directed sunlight in toward the three linked habitats, giving the whole the appearance of a slowly rotating cylinder made of pipes and broken glass.
She had never seen anything like it.
The habitats she had known, that she had served on, had all been solid, gray,
functional
. This was like a fairy castle hovering over the daylight side of Schwitzguebel.
She talked to traffic control on the
Wisconsin
as they directed her on the proper approach path, and even as she monitored the controls, her bearing, and the thrust of the engines, her eyes still kept drifting up to the main display.
The approach had her pilot the
Daedalus
along the
Wisconsin
’s axis of rotation—and into the center of the spinning construct. The massive habitat rotated around the ship, and she could see flashes of green and blue through the massive multifaceted windows facing her.
In front of the
Daedalus
, a massive cylinder hung along the axis of the spinning superstructure. Dwarfed by the three habitats paralleling it, it still dwarfed the
Daedalus
, its open end large enough to accommodate a dozen ships of similar size at once.
As the
Daedalus
flew inside, slowly braking, she saw the inner surface of the cylinder covered with docked ships of every description.
Ahead, a docking arm hung down from the inner surface. It was attached to a counter-rotating ring mounted on the inside of the massive cylindrical dock, so her target seemed stationary.
She broadcast to the ship’s passengers to secure themselves for docking.
The docking maneuver itself was painless. She barely felt the nudge when the
Daedalus
mated to the docking arm. But once the connection was secure, the arm retracted and matched the rotation of the
Wisconsin
. The transition wasn’t violent, but it was just enough to make her slightly queasy.
As the docking arm drew the
Daedalus
into the embrace of a docking cradle, warning lights across the control console flickered from amber to green as the ship’s subsystems switched to external power.
She felt herself sink into the seat as the habitat’s spin gave her the sense of gravity, however small, for the first time in over a month. “This is Captain Valentine. The
Daedalus
is safely docked. You’re free to move about the ship. The command staff should meet me at the main air lock.”
Captain Valentine
.
Command staff
. The words still felt wrong in her mouth. Inside, she was still a lieutenant, AWOL from a force that probably no longer existed. The
Daedalus
was crewed with refugees and run by a pair of pirates. She felt that acting as if they were bound by some larger command structure was only pretending; any moment, some group or other would recognize this all as a fantasy and the whole structure would fall apart.
She pushed herself up slowly in the low gravity and walked toward the door. Even with daily exercise regimens, her body was suddenly confused about having a definitive “down.”
She reached the air lock and saw that Mallory’s command structure still held for the moment. The representatives from the Caliphate crew and the Salmagundi crew stood waiting next to Karl Stavros and her other self.
Toni II stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, “Good luck, Sis.”
Toni hugged her twin and wondered briefly if she was being narcissistic. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Keep things together back here.”
Her twin was probably the one person who didn’t need to ask about the vague unfocused fears that gripped Toni at the moment. She just patted Toni’s back and said, “I’ll handle it.”
She let go of Toni II and said, “I’m handing you command of the
Daedalus
.” She turned to the other three and said, “Let’s go.”
“Welcome to the
Wisconsin
.” The woman who greeted them after cycling through the air lock was tall and had her blonde hair cut very close to the scalp. She wore a navy-blue jumpsuit that bore some very subtle matte-black chevrons on the sleeves. She held out her hand, and Toni shook it. “We’re taking you to the Gamma habitat, where all the delegations from the Centauri fleet are being housed.”
The
Centauri
fleet.
Toni felt another wave of wrongness. This was not the Centauri fleet; anything deserving such a name probably was battling Adam in the space around Occisis, if it still existed. The “fleet” Mallory had gathered together were refugee craft that just happened to largely come from planets in the Centauri Alliance, those most readily influenced by the last transmission from the papacy. Predictably, as information on what was happening filtered through the thousands of ships huddled in Bakunin space, groups tended to form around existing political lines; a small Sirius fleet, three fleets from Indi, a fleet formed from Bakunin natives and outlaws allied with a handful of ships from the Union of Independent Worlds, and a small contingent of recent arrivals from the Eridani Caliphate.
So Mallory’s group was the Centauri fleet.
And with the possible exceptions for the native Bakuninites, only about ten percent of all of those were actual military vessels.
Their guide led them around an upward curving corridor until they reached an elevator down to the Gamma habitat. They walked through a large air lock, and into a square chamber about ten meters on a side. Once the air lock sealed behind them, the whole thing started moving down. The image of massive walls sliding past made Toni realize that they were enclosed on three sides by massive windows.
Then the walls peeled away, leaving the view of the
Wisconsin
unobstructed as the elevator continued to slide downward. She heard a few sharp intakes of breath from her people.
Even though she had seen it on approach, the display on the
Daedalus’
bridge did not do the view justice. Seeing the
Wisconsin
with her own eyes, separated only by a half-meter-thick window, slammed home the scale of the thing.
The long tube of the Gamma habitat unrolled beneath them, stretching a kilometer before and behind, topped by an unbroken surface of windows, behind which Toni could now see details of topography: hills, streams, trees, buildings. And past the end on one side, the mottled gray surface of Schwitzguebel slowly spun; In the other direction, the ruddy orb of Kropotkin burned; and between the two, mirrors were suspended in a spindly framework like chrome-winged butterflies caught in the web of some massive mechanical spider.
Then the elevator descended through the ceiling of the vast Gamma habitat. Suddenly, the vast windows were above them and the sky lightened from black to blue. The transition was so sharp that Toni suspected that the color was designed into the windows to provide for a more natural-looking sky. Even so, the sky was alien in that instead of a single sun, there were hundreds of reflections of Kropotkin shining down on the two-kilometer strip of land below them.
New walls reached up to embrace the windows and seal off the view, and the elevator slid softly to a stop. Toni’s legs ached now that she stood in something approaching a full gee standard. Karl looked a little wobbly, while the other two looked less so—they’d been living in zero-gee aboard the
Daedalus
for a much shorter time.
The large doors opened on a broad flat area dominated by wheeled vehicles of every description. Beyond the parked vehicles, a line of trees hid the rest of the habitat from view, and above them, some sort of birds flew between them and the artificially blue sky.
The guy from the Salmagundi militia had never been out of a gravity well before fleeing Adam’s “conversion” of his planet. Toni glanced at him staring at the habitat around him.
Toni took a deep breath. She’d been space-borne so long, she had forgotten what it smelled like when air wasn’t canned and reprocessed. She smelled earth and water, and some sort of plant life that brought her near to a sneeze.
Their escort told them, “Your hotel is this way.”
Hotel?
They followed her down a walkway leaving the vehicle pad, and through a small park that grew wild in such a way that it seemed part of the design.

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