Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 25
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
♦♦♦
When the Dream stopped, Allison came awake at once. She was aware of the passage of every second and remembered every event that had unfolded around the World and beyond as the El-Ahur reached out to the stars. She found She was also still aware, still conscious of everything that was unfolding as it happened. Wherever there were Midianites or El-Ahur, Allison was able to focus Herself. And She was especially aware of the El-Ahur who had come and disturbed Her slumber, Grigori Myrym.
“Decker, do you read me? Shit.” Allison felt Grigori’s apprehension as if it were Her own. The younger woman stepped carefully into the chamber, her footfalls scraping on the stone. Allison breathed in for the first time in centuries, surprised how much it hurt. She was covered in a fine powdering of stone dust, vented in from outside over hundreds of years of wind erosion of the mountain face. The blue powder had settled about Her skin like marble as though attracted to Allison through some Cosmic force. Perhaps it was so; She didn’t have time to wonder as She opened Her eyes, willed the dust away particle by particle from Her skin and clothes and rose to Her feet.
“What? What?” Grigori’s panic had a coppery taste in Allison’s mouth. The El-Ahur was lost to Allison’s eyes behind a spinning veil of powdered stone, the whirlwind clearing the air of particles as She pushed it from Her skin. But She could see the chamber and the frightened El-Ahur without them. Allison stepped towards Grigori. The El-Ahur stepped backwards, frightened, and fell over. Allison reached for her and Grigori made a small, panicky sound. Allison smiled, trying to remember how to make Her face seem gentle.
“Hello, Myrym,” She said, “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe with me. Everyone’s afraid, I know. Don’t worry; everything is going to be alright. Something important is going to happen.”
Grigori was confused, frightened still, but she also needed to know what the Shekhina meant.
“What’s that?” she asked, timidly.
“We’re going to save Midian,” Allison replied, “We’re going to defeat the Zohor.”
EIGHT
UNDER THE GRANDMASTER’S FLAG
It had taken a squad of officers to disperse the crowd gathering in station security. Baxter and Heihachi stood with Station Commander Bucha Rachael. Benedict kept looking from them to the woman in the holding cell, neither knowing what to think or what to feel. Her name, he’d found out as they pulled her off of him, was Pomeroy Zaiola; she had been – or would be again – his…lover? Partner? Benedict was a little fuzzy on the specifics of their relationship.
“Why did you do it, Zaiola?” Baxter implored, “The Council ordered you to keep away from him! You’ll be expelled from the Order over this!”
“Expelled from the Order I won’t have to answer to the Council, will I?” she laughed, “And then no one will keep me from him!”
“I don’t even know you!” Benedict retorted, “Look; I’m very sorry your…boyfriend, husband, whatever he was, is dead; I’m more sorry than you know, considering he will be me. But I’ve only just met you, and you’re making this more than a little strange.”
Zaiola laughed again. “I know,” she said, “You told me this story. It’s strange for you, imagine me: I’ve heard about this so many times…and now I’m actually living through it!”
She approached the transparent wall of the holding cell. “I also know you’re not him…not yet; not really. And I know that he’s dead and gone…but he even told me to come here and find him again; to find you…” she turned away.
“I’m sorry,” Benedict stammered.
“There’s still the matter of the assault,” Bucha said, angrily, “And frankly, Mission Commander, I’m not entirely sure if you shouldn’t be charged as well.” The Commander gestured at Heihachi’s bruised and swollen face.
“I’m fine,” Heihachi said, “I’m not filing a complaint.”
“You don’t have to,” Bucha replied, “I witnessed the assault; Queen’s tits, I was involved in it! I could file the charges myself, if I wanted to.”
“Is that really necessary?” Benedict finally asked, “Isn’t this whole situation just fucking absurd enough as it is?”
The Station Commander pondered the question. “As you say,” she decided, at length.
A gesture to the El-Ahur security officer, and Pomeroy Zaiola’s cell was opened.
“Now that you’ve been properly introduced,” Baxter said, grimly, “The Officers of the Fleet are still waiting for us; not that being arrested isn’t a great excuse for being late to your own Flag ceremony.”
Benedict nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Pomeroy Zaiola. “We should talk later; preferably with a table between us.”
She nodded. Benedict turned to Bucha, Baxter and Heihachi. “Well? Ready when you are.”
♦♦♦
Two hundred and fifty ship’s commanders and their executive officers stood at attention around the rows of the small theatre. Benedict, of course, found himself seated onstage with Baxter and Heihachi. The station commander approached the podium.
“On behalf of the Fleet Command Commanders and Captains, I bid you all welcome. The orbital defence fleet at Midian has engaged the Zohor,” she said, “The line has held at near-stalemate for three days but the new Zohor vessels are beginning to prevail. Our numbers are small, but the Zohor will not anticipate our arrival in battle. The Queen’s Spear Fleet has already been sent ahead for preliminary Observation Instance telemetry; initial telemetry looks promising.”
“Initial telemetry looks promising?” Benedict muttered to Baxter, “I thought you said our use of time travel had turned the war!”
“As we’ve said: the Zohor have evolved.”
“Shit,”
Bucha Rachael continued: “We’re transmitting tactical data to all ships; we expect to have a full tactical map of spacetime around the battle by the time the ships have launched from Anuket. In the meantime Fleet Command is currently formulating a new strategy to deal with the Zohor adaptations. These plans were already being drafted by the Grandmaster for another mission; Fleet Command has decided to adapt them to our present situation, instead.”
Bucha turned to Benedict. “Thank you in advance,” she said, “From your perspective, for those plans.”
Uncertainly, Benedict nodded his obligation. The Station Commander turned back to the assembled Officers.
“With the retrieval of the Voyager, the Ouroboros has fulfilled her mission to the Queen’s Council. At this time, I would like to invite the Commander of the Ouroboros to come up and say a few words. Commodore?”
Baxter Vincent rose and took Bucha’s place at the podium. “I know that many among you questioned the orders given to the Ouroboros and her sister-ships,” he began, “I know many of my own crew and Flag officers were…conflicted. Many of you believe that we should have joined the rest of the Fleet at Thalia to hold the line. I believe our duty was clear; I believe that recovering the Voyager will lead to our ultimate victory. I do not believe, however, that we all need to believe the same thing. It is enough that we were able to carry out our mission, enough that we put aside our doubts and fears, enough that we united to our Duty. For we are El-Ahur and when called upon we do a great many things.”
♦♦♦
Benedict didn’t know whether or not to be surprised that the commissary on Anuket Station was virtually indistinguishable from any other he’d ever been in. He supposed there was a limit to what could be done with the layout of such a place: kitchen in the back; mess line between it and a vast dining hall with row after row of long tables, benches and chairs. A handful of ships were still being made ready, so there were, even at this hour, several El-Ahur eating and talking amongst themselves.
Benedict had a few hours before he reported back aboard the Ouroboros. He’d been promised a conversation with Pomeroy and after pressing the issue with Baxter Vincent, that meeting was set. Of the clusters of uniforms milling over trays of grub, Benedict suspected there were a number of watchful security officers and other spies, making sure things went smoothly when Pomeroy Zaiola met with him. He accepted but resented their presence. After getting himself coffee from the canteen he took a table near the exit. Benedict sensed the eyes of his keepers on him and felt suddenly as self-conscious and nervous as a high-schooler on his first date, and couldn’t understand why. He didn’t know this woman; but her familiarity with him, the way she’d kissed him, the way she’d wrapped herself around him...there was no doubt that Pomeroy Zaiola knew him...or at least how to make his body respond to hers. Only a few days before from his perspective...Alina...he knew she was dead; she must have died after...after...but it wasn’t there. He had no recollection of what had happened, except for a concussion as something exploded aft...a fire...then looking up into Alina Tanaka’s worried as his stasis pod closed. He’d tried to smile, tried to reassure her but he’d faded, suspended in time with no more conscious thought until waking up aboard the Ouroboros more than fifteen hundred years later.
Pomeroy walked in and Benedict was drawn from his fractured memories. She bypassed the service counter for his table. His heart was thudding, his blood racing, even as he felt Alina’s memory demanding respect.
“This as difficult for you as it is me?” she asked, sitting down.
“At least,”
Pomeroy nodded, caught between meeting and not meeting his eyes.
“I lost someone that I cared about, not too long ago.” He told her.
“That’s funny; me too.”
A tug of fear went through his gut as Benedict understood who she was talking about.
“You told me once how difficult this meeting was for you,” she said, “You told me why; Tanaka Alina, what she meant to you. So I understand what you’re feeling and I feel it right now, too. It pains me so look at you; because you’re not him, because you don’t even know me. You haven’t experienced what the other Benedict Jack experienced, yet. You haven’t lived that life. You’re not the same person. But at the same time—”
“At the same time I am. Just not from the same time.” Benedict said, “But you knew him, so by extension you know me. I don’t know you; I just lost my ship, my crew…the woman I loved…I’m still trying to deal with being railroaded into this Grandmaster role. For all I know you could just be another method of control; another way of forcing me down this path.”
“I wish you would believe that it’s not about forcing you to do anything,” she said, regretfully, “And I really hope you’ll come to see that I’m not here to control you. Jack...”
She reached out to touch his hand; he didn’t flinch, even though she seemed too.
“Jack, I know that you, the you now, might not ever be able to love me. I can live with that...because I remember that he loved me, which means that you will too, even if it’s just the me from the past.”
Benedict didn’t know what to think, what to feel; it was hard enough trying to follow a conversation where cause followed effect. He’d had a headache off and on since finding out the truth about the Grandmaster. He wondered whether Zaiola loved him enough to help. He wondered if he was callous enough to use her to execute that plan.
“So...” he asked at length, “What is it you want from me?”
“Just to be part of your life; to serve with you, fight with you. However you would have me in your life, Jack.”
“I need to think about it,” he said, “Zaiola, I’m sorry; I just don’t know if I can handle...any of this, right now.”
“I understand,”
“Are you stationed here at Anuket or on one of the ships in the Fleet?” Benedict asked, “I should be able to get in touch with you so–”
“I’m...rather I was your...his...Mechanic; in charge of the maintaining the Heavy Armoured Macronaut Infantry under your command.”
“Given how you kicked Baxter’s ass before, my guess is that it wasn’t nepotism that got you the job.”
Pomeroy laughed. “No; I’ve been a soldier for a very long time.”
“If Baxter will have you back aboard the Ouroboros I won’t object,” Benedict said, “Out of respect for who you...will be to me...that’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” she said, quietly.
♦♦♦
In the Station hangar, the shuttle from the Ouroboros was boarding; Station Commander Bucha was bidding farewell to the departing El-Ahur. As per tradition Baxter and Heihachi waited for the Station Commander at the foot of the ramp to their shuttle. When Bucha arrived she embraced each man in turn.
“For the Queen’s Sake and in Her Name go from this place and strike down the enemy,” Bucha said, reciting the traditional Prayer before battle of the El-Ahur.
“For Her Sake and In Her Name we will.” Baxter and Heihachi responded.
“For the Queen’s Sake and in Her Name protect the People of Midian,”
“For Her Sake and In Her Name we will.”
“For the Queen’s Sake and in Her Name fight the Aeons War,”
“For Her Sake and In Her Name we will.”
“For the Queen’s Sake and in Her Name bring Her the prize of victory,”
“For Her Sake and In Her Name, we will.”
“For the Queen’s Sake and in Her Name mark the Way for Her Ascension.”
“For Her Sake and in Her Name, we will.”
Bucha Rachael bowed, as did Baxter and Heihachi.
“Good luck Commodore,”
“Thank you, Station Commander.” As the Station Commander left for the next waiting shuttle party, Baxter and Heihachi went aboard. The rest of the landing crew were already aboard, including Benedict and Pomeroy Zaiola.
“I still say this is a bad idea,” Heihachi said to Baxter when they’d taken their seats.
“The Queen’s Council were clear in their instructions,” Baxter replied, “They planned for this contingency: in the event that Pomeroy broke restriction, she would either be detained indefinitely on-site at Anuket, or at the Voyager’s discretion be returned – under supervision – to the crew.”
“Commodore, I’m of the opinion she’s unstable. When the Grandmaster died, she –”
“When the Grandmaster died, she succumbed to her grief.”
“And by no account has anyone reported her recovery.”
“She’s not herself and neither is Benedict Jack.” Baxter said, irritably, “We’ve been dancing through time and space for most of the War; we push ourselves outside of reality in order to travel through space. You tell me what’s any stranger about Benedict or Pomeroy.”
Heihachi sighed. “As you say, Commodore.”
♦♦♦
The fleet rose from the asteroid field, forming up in a moving, living swarm. The Ouroboros rose and took position at the heart of the fleet.
“Comm to all ships,” Baxter ordered.
“All ships go.”
“This is the Commodore: we are now on countdown to Q-field jump; preloaded co-ordinates from the Observation Instances will place our ships into First Combat Instance positions. We’re going right into the fire, flanking the Zohor swarm attacking the line at Thalia. Calculations project an average of between five and fifteen Combat-Instance fight; full tactical details are still being compiled; nothing new there. Preload your attack pattern and retreat times and escape vectors for Anuket Yards and stand by to jump. Let’s burn the Zohor from our home world’s sky.”
