Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 62
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
“Grandmaster,” she said, hesitantly, “Trainee Pomeroy Zaiola reporting as ordered.”
“I summoned you here because I know you have questions. Speak freely, Pomeroy,” the Grandmaster said, turning around. “You’re nothing if not honest. Ask as honestly as you would speak.”
“How do you know me, sir?”
“From your perspective, I don’t, yet.”
“From my perspective? I don’t understand. What you said back at the Temple…and then selecting me out of how many thousands of candidates to serve aboard this ship…who are you to me and who am I to you?”
“What do you know of the prophecies written about me?” the Grandmaster asked, turning to look at her.
Pomeroy continued to stand at attention, “They’re vague, actually; not much to build a religion around.”
This won her a chuckle, “Agreed. Continue, please.”
“They say that after the ancient enemy strikes Midian, burning the land the sea and the sky, the Queen will wake and Her Champion come from across time and space to defend Her World in the Aeons War. They also say something about you coming from the future to begin the war, and then coming from the past to end it; I’m not sure what that means.”
“You’ll understand in time,” the Grandmaster said, “Simply put, I am indeed from the future. My past involvement in the Aeons War hasn’t happened for any of you, yet. As we speak, the wreckage of a spaceship called the Esperanza is adrift somewhere in the far reaches of space. In that wreckage, Mission Commander Jack Benedict is in a stasis pod. There he, my past self, will remain until the day all too many and far too few years from now when I will die in battle. Then he’ll be found and woken to take my place, eventually becoming Grandmaster Benedict Jack and fighting the Aeons War to its conclusion before coming back in time to just after the Zohor strike at the beginning of Midian’s role in the Aeons War.”
“That doesn’t…” Zaiola shook her head, ‘How can…”
“Don’t trouble yourself with the mechanics of it; I’m living through it and I still don’t understand how it’s all happening.”
“As you say; but, you’ve not answered my question: How do you know me, sir?”
“Before answering you I wanted first to establish a common reference,” the Grandmaster said, “Namely, the path of my life through time.”
“You’ve done that…I think, Grandmaster. Now: How do you know me?”
“I knew your future self…before I left to return here.”
“You know me in my future?”
“And you know me in my past,” the Grandmaster said, regretfully.
Pomeroy shook her head, utterly confused and more than a little uncomfortable.
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense!”
“I’ve said that a few times myself over the years,”
“What am I supposed to say to that?” Pomeroy asked, “What do you expect? I presume the way you acted towards me in the Temple and why I was put aboard this ship is because my future self and you will be – or were, I suppose – lovers. I don’t like the sound of that, though; I don’t like the idea that I can’t control my destiny…that I can be made to be with someone, to love someone.”
“For all the time I knew you before now you were never someone who could be made to do anything.”
Pomeroy didn’t find the statement all that amusing. She remained silent, her face still. As an actress and even as a propagandist, Zaiola had been able to adapt hundreds of expressions, switching fluidly from one to another. The first one she’d mastered was this mask of blank impassivity she now wore. As she allowed the silence to stretch she got the result she desired: the Grandmaster blinked first.
“Neither your future nor my past are certain,” the Grandmaster said, “But relative to my memories and experience your future self and my past self…yes; they – we – were involved.”
“What the Hell am I supposed to say to something like that? What am I supposed to feel? I don’t like how it sounds – because it sounds like fate or forcing – and I don’t even know how what you’re saying is possible! How can your past be my future? Why tell me?”
“Because you deserve to know,”
Pomeroy laughed, a cruel and angry sound: “Those words get people killed these days, Grandmaster.”
“I know; people still died for less in my old time.”
“Haven’t they always?” she hissed, bitterly.
“Zaiola, I don’t expect you to become the person I knew; I don’t expect you to fall in love with me now or in the future or ever at all. The only thing I want is for you to serve this ship to the best of your ability and to become the leader I know that you are capable of being.”
“The leader you remember?”
“As insignificant as you might think such minuscule changes to be, there are enough quantum-level differences between you and her to declare yourselves separate entities altogether,” the Grandmaster said, “Who I remember might never be who you become. Oddly enough while the future remains unwritten I’m the son of a bitch trapped by fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate,”
“I remember. But my presence here will help direct the War towards the best possible outcome.”
“That’s not the same thing as victory.”
“Ask your elders who remember the Schism; they’ll tell you the only victory in war is survival.”
“You’ve been to the end of this thing; do we survive?”
“What I remember hasn’t happened yet and much remains uncertain. I wasn’t there all the way to the end. But I am here to fight this war and win, Pomeroy Zaiola. I’ve recruited you and thousands more to the Ouroboros to make that happen; but even the future that is my past is unwritten, Zai. All depends on what we do here and now.”
Pomeroy shook her head, “At least it can’t get any more confusing.”
Benedict chuckled, “Wait until you live through time travel in combat.”
Pomeroy looked at the Queen of Light and Sorrow, who’d watched their exchange impassively.
“Do I even want to know what that is?” Zaiola asked Her.
♦♦♦
Daily life aboard the Ouroboros consisted of routine tasks and unexpected events. Engagement against the Zohor came often and without warning. The trainees suffered injury and loss; fear, pain and impotent rage. They also learned friendship, trust, loyalty and courage.
Their first experience with tactical time travel came during their third month aboard the Ouroboros: the Zohor swarm that had launched the vanguard attack against Midian was discovered in-bound. The Ouroboros and her fleet made the Q-field jump directly into One-OI, and recorded the battle as it unfolded.
The combat against the Zohor swarm took three days in realtime to fight. Each ship in the fleet had roughly ten instances joined to battle; relative to the El-Ahur serving in the campaign, the combat operation took one hundred and eight days to complete, including combat uptime and repair and refit downtime, known as Respite. Despite their utter victory over the Zohor, the fleet suffered casualties of its own. Though no ships were lost, there were many injured, many killed, especially among the trainees aboard the Ouroboros. When the combat operation was at last complete the Grandmaster addressed the trainees again. This time his speech was much shorter:
“Congratulations; you’ve survived your first extended tactical time travel combat mission. The tactics that just allowed us to wipe out a hundred and fifty thousand-strong Zohor swarm will lead to our eventual victory over them all. And when the Zohor are at last destroyed we will turn these same tactics against the only enemy that will remain: the Nimbus. In time those of you who survive will be the ones to teach and retrain the commanders of the old fleet; in time you will be the ones leading the new fleet. So learn the lesson well: the future is on your shoulders now; don’t let shit happen to it.”
♦♦♦
Yeung Acshah was spiritually transformed by the experience. She’d been part of the team monitoring the Q-Field drive under the direction of the ‘Boros’ veteran crew. As she’d watched the reactor power up and initiate Breach for the first time, she’d had a vision. She had been watching the Drive Monitor Plate simulate the interior of the Drive Room, where massive conical pillars reached for each other from floor to ceiling. When the Q-Field Breach occurred, Yeung felt as though she were looking at a full-length mirror back at herself. Only she was looking at herself across time and witnessing everything between then and now, absorbing only flashes without context. But the woman on the other end of the reflection recognized her immediately; Older, considerably wiser and wearing the Grandmaster’s Rank emblem on her chest. She shared a moment’s understanding with this future self: the Zohor were near defeat, the Queen was with them and she was about to bear witness to the fulfillment of her sole ambition as an El-Ahur: the obliteration of the Zohor.
The sensation was orgasmic and as they made for the racks while the Ouroboros moored itself at Anuket Station for repair she felt relaxed for the first time since she’d heard that her father was dying. She almost felt happy. Yeung understood that she was feeding off her hate, feeding off her desire for revenge against the Zohor. That they were nothing more than unthinking machines designed for the single purpose of destruction only made her hate them more: they were insects; Yeung would not let herself be defeated by insects.
When he returned to the racks, Yeung made a beeline for Baxter Vincent.
“Bax; got a minute?”
He’d been a ship’s Commander in his previous life; it was still strange to her as a recent graduate of basic training at the Ehlo-Bene to be addressing a Captain so familiarly. But as the Grandmaster had decreed: their past lives and ranks meant nothing anymore.
Baxter came over and sat with her on the bench adjacent her rack.
“What’s up, Acshah?”
“I wanted to know – because of your background – what steps I have to take to go into a command-level career path.”
“You want to work on the Command Deck?”
“No; I want command.”
Baxter nodded and leaned back a little.
“Funny you should speak about my background; that’s why I’m on the Command Deck with the Grandmaster, right now. When you get around to Executive Rotation you’ll see just how fucking incredible tactical time travel really is. But what you want to know is how to get there.”
“Right; this is about me, not you.”
Another chuckle from Baxter Vincent, “Thanks for reminding me. Assuming that the protocol the Grandmaster’s new El-Ahur fleet uses is at least similar to Phenex El-Ahur protocol: unless you’re selected for a Command Deck duty rotation by the Personnel Chief, to get to the Command Deck and from there onto the Bridge you need to demonstrate excellent general knowledge about every department aboard ship; that means an extended trainee rotation. Whether you end up in the Crew Pits by selection or application, you’ll need to work in nearly every department, every division aboard-ship first. While you’re doing all that you have to study up on command specialization. Then if you weren’t already selected you have to apply to Command Rotation. Then you have to get accepted to Command Rotation.”
“Sounds daunting.”
“You’re allowed to apply three times for Command Rotation. If after that you’re not selected for the Crew Pits you’ll have fifteen days to pick your final specialization or else resign your commission as a Fleet Officer.”
“Resign my commission? How can I be a Phenex El-Ahur if I’m not serving in the Starfleet?”
“Not all Phenex do serve in the Starfleet, though many do. But there are numerous roles you could take on in service to the Queen. The Shipyards at Bloom’s Point, Munitions and Resupply…joining the Gesheol El-Ahur on-station or back on Midian. But something about you,” he nodded, “I don’t think you have to worry about being shunted or resigning. I think you have what it takes to get into Command Rotation, maybe even out of the Pits and onto the Bridge.”
“Thank you,” Acshah said, “It gives me something to shoot for.”
“I think you already are shooting for something, Yeung. Just remember: In your quest for revenge don’t sacrifice your ship or your crew to bring down the enemy; there’s far too many Zohor to waste El-Ahur lives on them so cheaply.”
Yeung opened her mouth to speak, but instead she stammered, “As you say,” because Baxter’s truth hit home.
“You also don’t get to Command without knowing how to read people, Acshah; you wear your hate for the Zohor like a crown. I don’t disagree with what you feel or why; just be careful to temper your hate and keep yourself and those under your command alive.”
♦♦♦
Their first years aboard the Ouroboros were spent on active duty in the Black. They learned about the ship’s systems from the hull in and the core out; Together Pomeroy and Yeung rotated through every department, through every station, learning every job aboard the mighty star borne vessel. As they trained, they in turn taught the surviving commanders of the Old Fleet, sharing knowledge and preparing them for the greater task of learning to run, pilot and command the new ships being deployed from the Bloom’s Point fleet yards.
The years would hone them to a keener edge than they could have imagined. As they fought the Zohor and mastered the technical aspects of Q-field navigation and tactical time travel; they learned more about themselves than they thought possible. Knots of comrades-in-arms came together, as always, throughout any war. Pomeroy Zaiola and Yeung Acshah found themselves part of such a group, naturally. What they couldn’t have realized was just what destinies awaited them, or the history they would shape.
Before joining the trainees aboard the Ouroboros, Baxter Vincent had been the Captain of the Queen’s Spear. The ship had been lost during the Battle of Thalia as the Zohor advanced on Midian. Roshenko Aqualina had been recently elevated to the rank of Lieutenant of the Phenex El-Ahur. Bucha Rachael had served Baxter as Tactical Commander of the Spear and her actions during the battle of Thalia were the reason so few of the ship’s crew had died. There were others: Heihachi Daniel, also late of the Spear, Hartman Ambika from the Light of Midian…Pomeroy and Yeung both served with them all in some fashion during their early years of service aboard the Grandmaster’s ship. They became a cluster of friends, a knot of off-duty brothers and sisters united as El-Ahur and part of the Ouroboros’ crew.
♦♦♦
Even a ship as large as the Ouroboros had limited space. It was inevitable therefore that Zaiola and the Grandmaster would cross paths from time to time. But other than what he had revealed to her the first time they’d met aboard his ship, Grandmaster Benedict was as unobtrusive as possible. He made regular tours of all departments of his flagship but offered no special attention to Pomeroy when these inspections or other duties caused their paths to cross.
But it was impossible for Zaiola not to be intrigued by what the Grandmaster had said. She could certainly see what was attractive about him: his confident demeanour, a handsome if scarred face and a body toned by decades (perhaps centuries) of military service; his dark skin was exotic, the Old Ethnicities had long ago intermingled and almost none remained, except for among the oldest of the El-Ahur and Erelim. Not to say Midian was homogenous, but there were fewer differences among the men and women of one land to the next than there had been on Old Earth. Baxter Vincent, who was among the oldest El Ahur just looked pale; ghostly. But because he’d been the first to be Healed by the Queen after First Zohor Attack, Benedict was among the oldest of the El-Ahur; and his skin was as exotically dark as Baxter’s was eerily light.
There was no true way to measure Benedict’s age; he steadfastly refused to reveal how long he’d served in the Aeons War; he kept the secrets of his backward-looping timeline to himself. But about the Aeons War itself, Benedict had much to say. Zaiola attended his lectures of course; though most of them were optional in the trainee curriculum it was considered good form, a sign of respect towards the Grandmaster to attend. Zaiola, Yeung, Baxter and whoever else was along for the ride often went together. They’d all learned to listen to what Grandmaster Benedict Jack had to say: every word of it was pertinent to victory against the Zohor.
