The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

"It's not that, sir." Bosco falls into parade
rest. "I'm just skeptical."

"It makes you a good tactician, Bosco. But I'm still
giving the orders here. Hurst has a personal reason to want Preston killed.
We're going to act on sound reasoning, not personal vendettas. Besides, Hurst's
a substitute. General Satou will be back in little over a month; he knows how
things run here. We just have to keep it quiet 'til then."

Bosco nods reluctantly and Kempton switches off the
projector. He clasps his hands behind his back, and turns to Bosco.
"That's all for now, Lieutenant Commander."

Bosco salutes listlessly and leaves. Kempton sighs once
he's gone. If they hadn't known each other since military school, he'd have had
Bosco reassigned long ago. There's plenty of other tacticians waiting in line
who'd never question his priorities. But then again, Bosco reminds him of where
he's come from. And where he's going. He doesn't intend to spend the rest of
his life following some general's orders. Kempton wants to be a public figure,
someone important that people can look up to. For that, he needs to always
think ahead—think of the people first, and see that he doesn't antagonize those
who comprise his future electorate.

As to the Tau Ceti matter, he just hopes the Dorylinae
won't become a problem while he's in charge. There's no politically correct way
to deal with aliens. Some think the Dorylinae deserve their own rights and a
voice within the Confederacy, like Bosco, for all his bluster. But the majority
is xenophobic enough to make it impossible for any encountered species to pass
the Integration Tests. The TMC in particular has a very clear policy on alien
sentients: if they can become a threat in the future, they're a threat now.
Hardly a diplomatic tactic. Aliens can be a powerful campaign asset, as long as
they're kept under control, and at a safe distance.

But first things first: he needs to find out if Preston
can be cleared off the board with as little commotion as possible. Then see to
it that a satisfying explanation is found for the damaged drones in Tau Ceti,
so he can keep Hurst the hell off his back.

On his flight toward Nobelanin, Kriahm's vessel continues
to degrade and fall prey to the organisms infecting its hull. From loss of
structural integrity over several sections, to loss of precision in the
exterior sensors, the
Kaluvian
suffers from impairments of almost
post-battle gravity. It can no longer navigate nebulae safely, cannot skim the
coronas of stars to refuel, and can barely maintain its course. By the time he
reaches his destination, Kriahm's patience is all but depleted and his anxiety
soaring.

The Ascendancy's star-complex headquarters are located
near the center of the Grand Helix, built in the vicinity of what once was the
Raimerians' home system. All of the Ascendancy's dominant species have been
relocated here, in the armpit of the Helix's Second Wing. Now, the Nobelanin
complex is maintained in a state of prosperous equilibrium and safety by the
cumulative effort of hundreds of billions working within its gigantic
constructions.

The
Kaluvian
is forced to travel a good portion of
its approach vector in physical space, the infection having rendered its
superluminal flight capacity moot. Kriahm's already decided to discard the
debilitated vessel as quickly as possible and acquire a new one better suited
to his new goal. Since he first received the information about the humans'
experiments, Kriahm realized that Amharr's uncharacteristic reluctance to act,
and his eagerness to dispose of Kriahm when all common sense dictated he insist
on his support, are undeniable proof of corruption. Somehow, Amharr has become
an enemy of the Ascendancy, and Kriahm is the only one aware of the fact. And
the only one able to stop him. An ideal chance.

But first, he needs to convince the Ascendancy Council of
his need for a fully equipped and crewed containment vessel.

Kriahm will have to leave his infected vessel with the
Ilkryp, the Ascendancy's engineers, and try to explain the presence of the
infectious organisms. The Ilkryp will complain about his vessel's damage of
course, severely. And probably demand he be investigated for liability. Kriahm
must avoid that at any cost—the Ilkryp are notoriously bureaucratic, and nothing
must delay him. So he ignores the various maintenance spheres he passes on his
entry into the Nobelanin complex, and heads straight toward Enryasse, the
Ilkryp resident system.

As the
Kaluvian
enters Enryasse's outer shell—a
loose crust of observation and coordination stations—he marvels at the number
of slender
klaar
vessels dashing back and forth among the Ilkryp's
monstrous machineries. The sight is more than welcome to Kriahm, indicating a
good chance he be granted a containment vessel.

The shell operators repeatedly request Kriahm's purpose of
entry into Enryasse, but he dodges them all by declaring a state of emergency.
He can't afford to waste time with formalities.

Kriahm detests the Ilkryp. Invertebrates always make him
uncomfortable, with their unpredictable muscular spasms and slithering
movements, and their secretions and incomprehensible body functions. The Ilkryp
would have been eradicated if he'd been commanding their integration at the
time. He even suspects the Raimerians themselves simply tolerate the creatures
because of their unmatched technological adroitness, and their obsessive care
for artificials. All the same, he'll have to deal with them if he wants a new
vessel, even if he despises the prospect of close contact with the slithering
beasts.

The
Kaluvian
reaches Enryasse's inner planetary
system, and Kriahm takes course toward E-One, the largest of its eighteen
inhabited worlds. The heavily mechanized planet grows steadily in Kriahm's view
as he glances out through his quarters' transparent wall. Several sections of
the wall quiver dark gray and black, turning cyan at the edges, as the
parasitic organisms impair the
klaar
's functions. He rubs his palms
against his robe impatiently, waiting, staring down at the Ilkryp world.

E-One courts Enryasse's star in a very low orbit, fueling
its dense maze of habitats through multiple solar converters and particle webs.
A dense thicket of cyber-biotic conductors shifts along E-One's surface, always
pointing star-wards, making it appear as though a constant breeze were blowing
over its surface. The world is built around the original Ilkryp homeworld,
transported here at their integration, and now nothing more than a relic at the
center of an enormous machine.

E-One's carapace is made of hundreds of overlapping
layers, webs woven with connective channels and corridors, between which
vessels of all sizes and even mobile cities travel unhindered. It has expanded
by an extra layer since Kriahm saw it last, probably carrying a couple of
billion more Ilkryp now, and holding as many vessels in concurrent service as
the entire Emranti Empire used to possess before they were integrated into the
Ascendancy. It's an impressive sight to behold.

E-One immediately hails the
Kaluvian
, and an Ilkryp
representative engages Kriahm in a tedious discussion about his passage rights
and lack of appointment. Eventually Kriahm is permitted to secure the
Kaluvian
to one of E-One's emergency repair docks, and is called to the lead technician
to justify himself.

The moment he steps off the
Kaluvian
, an
ambi-platform rushes toward him and starts spinning above his head, wrapping
him in a forcefield cocoon. It generates breathable air, suited to his
biochemistry, and guides the floor underneath him to generate the necessary amount
of gravity suited to his physiology. As he walks toward the network passageway,
Kriahm's environmental capsule shadows him, humming above his head like a
mechanical parasite.

The dispatch center is currently situated almost on the
other side of E-One—its outer layers always rotating and readjusting. An
insufferable, shifting maze that causes Kriahm much distress, but which he
endures. Forced to use the public transportation to reach the center, Kriahm
can't help fantasizing about ordering the destruction of E-One and all other
Ilkryp worlds from the crux of his new containment vessel.

He travels by automatic ferry through E-One's connective
network. At the entry into E-One's subsequent layer, Kriahm steps out and into
a public corridor, and walks to the next station by himself.

Hundreds of Ilkryp crawl across the porous floors, like
oversized ashen worms leaving slimy trails behind them. Dozens of long,
engorged tentacles grow out of their faces, grope the floor before them and the
bodies of their neighbors. With each touch, they transfer entire populations of
the assimilated microorganisms that live, die and decay on their sluggish
bodies, from one to the other. Their constant physical contact sends shudders
of disgust down Kriahm's back, setting his sensitive nerves on edge. He hides
his fists inside his robe, pressing them tightly together to stifle the burning
stings in his palms. He tries to find his way through the mass of bodies,
avoiding their filth as much as possible.

He eventually reaches the next station and has to wait in
line for an available ferry. With every passing moment he grows more irritable,
and has increased difficulty keeping his tension in check. If he would allow
his natural urges to take control a catastrophe would be inevitable. Killing so
many Ilkryp in their own home would ruin his chances to get a new vessel.

His queue advances bit by bit, and he eventually boards a
small ferry together with two Ilkryp and a Kolsamal female, all heading for the
same dispatch center. The ferry drops into the sphere and Kriahm has to hold
onto the handrail as inertia acts on him. He lets go of the rail as soon as the
acceleration steadies, rubs his hand on his robe, and hides it between the
folds.

The Kolsamal female stares at him with unbridled curiosity.
Her small green eyes inspect him carefully, on the instinctive lookout for any
hint of weakness. Kolsamal females are even more despicable than the males,
which is why there's only the necessary minimum of them in every caste, and
they are never used on out-missions. They're more aggressive, less able to take
orders or work in teams, and a curse when carrying offspring.

The female snorts, and Kriahm looks away from her drooling
slit-mouth. The two Ilkryp groveling on the floor, petting each other's sloughs
and spit-holes with their bacteria-infested tentacles aren't a pleasant sight
either. Kriahm fantasizes about his hand punching into the Kolsamal's chest to
rip her spine out and whip the Ilkryp to shreds with it.

The ferry stops, and a dull siren fills the small room. A
heat wave runs through Kriahm's already tense spine. He storms out of the
ferry, pushes through the crowd waiting in the stuffy corridor, and heads for
the dispatch center on foot.

For a long portion of his way, Kriahm is quietly followed
by a Yantulin female, soaring a few steps behind him. He turns and looks at her
on several occasions. She pretends to be unaware of him and continues her path
at a painfully constant distance. Having to stop and wait for a group to cross
a junction, Kriahm decides to switch things around. He changes direction and
heads into an adjacent corridor leading off his actual trajectory. He repeats
the maneuver several more times, until he finds himself enough removed from the
mass of passengers to ignore his manners and address her.

"Are you following me on purpose?" he asks,
turning abruptly to face her.

The Yantulin ruffles up in a soundless movement, shielding
her transparent skin with a hazy white cloud of filigree feathers. She opens
all four of her startlingly bright fuchsia eyes and stares back at him. "I
have not had the pleasure to be in the presence of an Emranti in a long
time," she says. Her voice is a symphony of chimes and echoes, covering
almost the entire frequency spectrum.

Yantulins are notorious for the hypnotizing effects their
voices have on most species. Though Kriahm is not remotely concerned he could
fall prey to her talents. She might be able to manipulate most anyone with the
subliminal vibrations accompanying her words, but not him.

"And what do you expect from my presence?" he
asks, taking an almost invisible step toward her.

"My expectations have been exceeded already,"
she sings softly. "I have been immediately drawn to you ever since our
paths converged. All I dream of now is to be of service to you. What brings you
here,
Piercer of Minds
?"

"An urgent and important matter," Kriahm says,
taking another small step, his eyes never leaving hers. "And you?"

"Oh, my purpose is unworthy of your attention."
Her down-covered body sways as smoothly as the unfurling of a cloud with every
breath she takes. "Please, tell me about your purpose. I wish to serve.
There are not many whose interests and concerns have the weight of yours."

"How would you know?"

The Yantulin bows her pretty head, sending her almost
weightless mane waving through the air. "No active Dominant has ventured
into Enryasse without need before. The Ilkryp's handiwork is unworthy of your
refined race."

"An accurate observation," Kriahm says, stopping
right before her.

"I would be honored to help you, if you need the
talents I can offer." The Yantulin's unblinking eyes glow with interest.
As she observes him closely, a barely audible murmur escapes her delicate beak
and resonates against Kriahm's overexcited skin.

"Why offer me your service?"

"I sense greatness in your presence," she says,
her voice increasingly softer. "How could I but oblige myself to
you?"

Kriahm bends his head toward her, his gaze dancing along
with her tantalizing sway, his skin absorbing every bit of her presence with
exhilarating acuteness.

The Yantulin quivers with excitement, her feathers
settling softly against her translucent skin one by one, revealing her
bioluminescent insides in a fascinating display of colors.

"My Lord," she whispers in a hundred voices.
"Tell me what you desire... Oh... tell me..."

Kriahm lifts his hand and reaches for her delicate
features, both their ambi-platform fields increasing their permeation to
facilitate contact. He draws the contour of her face in the air, making her follow
his movement with passionate attention. The Yantulin almost breaks into a song
of fascination, surrendering herself to his closeness.

Kriahm twitches. With a swift, precise movement he grabs
her fragile neck and squeezes.

The Yantulin starts to squirm. Her six thin limbs explode
from their unsuspected caches and flail outward in a desperate attempt to free
herself. But there is nothing she can do.

Kriahm's tendrils invade her skull, making her coil and
bend under the pain. With a single unhampered burst, he fires up all the
neurons in her small brain, watching their discharges flicker and throb like an
intricate thunderstorm.

The Yantulin seems to be genuinely curious about him, yet
not without her own agenda. She's an independent contractor, usually employed
to investigate inter-species matters before they have a chance to degenerate
into conflicts. Sometimes she mitigates, other times she robs her contractor of
goods and benefits without fulfilling her duty. She has no allegiance to
anyone, and doesn't seem to respect others' allegiances either. She has
approached Kriahm on her current employment, to find out where his vessel
picked up the parasitic organisms on its hull, and what his intentions with
them are.

Kriahm tightens his grip, digging deeper into the patterns
of the Yantulin's overwhelmed brain. She's known about him only since he's
entered Enryasse, and doesn't know who commissioned her services. It was a
secure, anonymous contact—a clever precaution against unwanted scrutiny. Her
employer seems to have experience with Emranti.