Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 94
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
As was always the case in large communities, there were bars where the patrons were mostly civilian, bars where Law Enforcement officials made up most of the patrons, and bars that were partly, or wholly, given over to military patrons.
The Phenex didn’t mix with the Suphia, despite most of the HAM operators coming from the Suphia El-Ahur; another, ancient military tradition: The troops didn’t get along with the naval officers. Bars where they mixed saw more violence than bars where they didn’t.
And every El-Ahur living on or stationed to Bloom’s Point had their favourite bar. Yeung Acshah was no exception. So when she went to the Broken Star for drinks it was a place that was as warm as home to her. Surprising her, Yeung Acshah saw Roshenko Aqualina sitting alone at a table, drinking. It had been a very long while since they’d last spent time together. Yeung approached.
“Care for a little company, ‘Lina?” Yeung asked, before sensing her sullenness and seeing the look on her face. “Oh; never mind.”
“No, please; I wouldn’t mind being with an old friend right now.”
Yeung sat down. Grandmaster or not, ‘Lina and Acshah had been friends since their days training aboard the Ouroboros, generations ago. Roshenko flagged the server, who took Yeung’s drink order.
“I heard about you and Dan.”
“It’s a small world.”
“Bad news travels in time warp. If you’re still looking for a ship, I’d be more than happy to have you aboard the Caliburn; I understand the ‘Boros is going to need a new Systems Chief; I could always arrange for a swap; you might not be under the Queen’s Flag, but at least you’ll be flying under the Grandmaster’s colors.”
Roshenko shook her head and smiled, “I still can’t get over you being appointed Grandmaster; I mean, I knew you when you were still tripping over hatchways…and back then I was already a veteran of the Phenex. You’ve come so unbelievably far.”
“We all have,” Yeung said as her drink arrived and she took a grateful swallow, “Otherwise none of us would be here.”
This made ‘Lina laugh a little, “Don’t tell me that the Queen requires Her Grandmaster to be all philosophical.”
“It’s right there, in the handbook, under ‘Duties and Responsibilities of your New Rank’.”
They shared a mood-lightening laugh.
“The offer stands open, if you want it.” Yeung said as the laughing died down, “I get along fine with my Systems Chief, but I don’t think he’d mind the chance to work on the Queen’s Flagship if he was given the option.”
‘Lina shrugged, “I’m weighing my options. Frankly, I’ve even contemplated joining the Gesheol. But, I’m damn good at what I do. I just don’t know if…”
She trailed off by drinking her beer but never returned to the thought.
“I understand,” Yeung said, “But I wouldn’t mind another old friend with me on my ship, in this war.”
“Funny; that’s what Rachael said about me possibly transferring to Anuket. Except she said ‘station’ instead of ‘ship’, obviously.”
“We’re your friends; your sisters. We love you.”
Roshenko made a rude, dismissive gesture, “Don’t give me that sentimental shit; I’m not in the mood for it.”
Yeung raised her hands in defeat, then took a large swallow of her own cocktail, “It’s not sentiment. I know how good a systems engineer you are. That, and I’ve always believed that friends are the family you choose for yourself, and I therefore consider you family.”
“Still too sentimental,” Roshenko said with a wry expression.
“Fine; I just want you on my ship because I think you’re a worthless pile of dried-out shit and I need someone aboard I can blame for every single one of my fuck-ups.”
Roshenko exploded in a gale of laughter. When she’d calmed down she regarded her friend seriously. “I’ll consider your offer,” she said at last.
“That’s all I wanted to hear.”
♦♦♦
He woke, as was his habit, just before his alarm went off at Fourth Hour. He dropped his lenses into bleary eyes and called up his notices on his way from the bed to the shower. Heihachi’s duty roster had him on Beta Shift rotation that day, meaning he would start his fifteen-hour Duty ten hours into the start of the day. Alpha Shift started at five hours, Gamma at fifteen, Delta at twenty. It was a standard rotation; all officers served all the Shifts at least once every Cycle, and shifts always overlapped in order to maximize the number of on-duty personnel.
However, as he looked over the rest of his schedule on his lenses, eyes closed as he showered and lathered up, he noticed that the Commodore had scheduled a briefing with him for Seventh Hour; Heihachi knew even before he started reading the text that it was going to be about his Psych Eval and felt a mixture of dread and anger.
Leaving the shower after a cursory towel-drying, Heihachi Daniel went to his meditation area and began a series of breathing and slow body movements to calm himself. He recited his personal mantra silently in his mind, and began to filter worry into its corner, where he could examine it calmly, rationally and either dismiss it or plan around it. Some things in life, such as today and his upcoming meeting with Baxter Vincent was something he could not change or affect. So he dismissed the worry over it, and moved on, examining his anger and anxiety and seeing their common threads. Mentally, Daniel cut those threads and wove his anxiety and anger together into a new form: one of acceptance and proactivity.
Heihachi Daniel, veteran of the Aeons War, former pupil to Baxter Vincent at the Ehlo-Bene, trainee under Grandmaster Benedict Jack on this ship…his ship…needed more than an hour’s meditation before he felt himself centered enough to face the meeting and its fallout. He stretched as he left the meditation area, dressed in a fresh uniform and headed to the Officer’s Mess for a quick breakfast before taking a pod to the Command Deck to see the Commodore.
♦♦♦
“How are you today, Dan? Sit down, please. Coffee?”
“Please.”
The Grandmaster brewed two cups from a machine on his desk, the aroma of roast coffee flooding the air. It was a good feeling, a comfortable one.
“I’ll get to the heart of it,” the Commodore said after they’d had time to fix their coffees to their liking and have a couple of tastes, “Your evaluation came back borderline; south of the border, actually.”
“I…see…”
Baxter hit a coloured square on his desk and the evaluation summary was sent to Heihachi’s implant for reading or upload.
“May I be briefed on its context now, rather than after I’ve assimilated the report? It’s as thick as an observation bulkhead.”
“It basically describes your mental state as showing signs of late-stage traumatic stress, rage, frustration, depression and antisocial narcissism. My only issue with the veracity of the evaluation is I had a control sample of other crewmembers brought in for random psych evals. The statistical model calculates that at least half the fucking crew have the same symptoms, myself included.”
“So…is there a problem?”
“Your scan indicates you’re the worst off of that half of the crew.”
Heihachi closed his eyes and sighed, “Fuck.”
“It also showed you hold a great deal of dependency on military service to the El-Ahur. Not just dedication to our cause, but…an actual dependence on it. But I can say the same of the Grandmaster, because I’ve known her almost as long as I’ve known you.
“Grandmaster Benedict Jack was famous for telling us all to not let shit happen. I see your shit starting to happen, Dan; you’re one of my oldest friends and I depend on you on that Bridge, in combat and out.”
After a pregnant pause, Heihachi blinked first: “But…”
“But…” Baxter said, “…the report recommends you be removed from active duty aboard the ‘Boros, or any other ship.”
“So…what’s going to happen?” trying to ignore the feeling of falling in his ears and stomach.
The Commodore leaned towards Heihachi, “I’m going to make a deal with you.”
“What is it?”
“You remain my Captain, you stay on my Bridge, and you stand with me in combat. But only if you get help to properly ground yourself. That means psych work, chemical therapy…hell, it may even mean nanoneurology. I know it’s a lot. But –”
“We are El-Ahur, and we are called on to do a great many things.” Heihachi answered.
“Actually, I was going to say, ‘I know it’s a lot, but I don’t want to lose you, and as your friend, I want you to be better.”
“I…as you say, Commodore; thank you.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Absolutely.”
Baxter smiled, “Good. Go to the Infirmary to get everything scheduled then report back to me on the Bridge when they’re through setting things up for you.”
“Thank you, Vince.”
Baxter smiled. “Anything for anyone who matters to me. Be well, Dan.”
♦♦♦
The War Council spent weeks sorting through a plan of attack based on the schematics of the Decision Engines that Gabrielle was able to provide, plotting how to create their Meta-Fleets and how to deploy them.
It was a great undertaking for them to be able to locate and then track the Decision Engines as they moved through the cosmos, but once they successfully determined where all five Decision Engines were while out of Warp and calculating their next set of random vectors, the War Council was able to keep constant watch over their targets. The Dispatch Engine was proving itself worth the cost and toll of Operation Metatron.
It was slow and ongoing. The Decision Engines were far from unprotected, and the complex precision of fighting five Combat Instance battles at once with the same fleet of ships was still being worked out. If they used a Meta-Fleet and tactical time travel Combat Instances, they might succeed. But no one was even sure if a Meta-Fleet already composed of hundreds of instances of the same fleet could be deployed using Combat Instance Warfare.
And palpable in the War Room, even among those who could only be present via holography was a profound impatience, an anxious, frustrated urge to start fighting already; even Gabrielle could not help but feel they were too static. But everyone knew the meticulousness with which they were going over the minutiae of Operation Hydra was absolutely necessary.
Trained tacticians worked with their leaders and advisors, trying to fit together a battle plan which would be effective in whatever environment their five, simultaneous Meta-Fleet instances encountered when they engaged the Zohor. Theoreticians, physicists, mathematicians and astronomers were called upon to help with the calculations necessary to building such a fleet. They ran complex simulations, tested different theorem and worked tirelessly, obsessively on ensuring that their final strategy would be the winning one.
Gabrielle’s impatience simmered beneath Her placid exterior. Though She knew such feelings to be emotional fallacies constructed by Her Mind’s desire for action, it didn’t make the feeling any less real, didn’t make Her desire to attack their wounded enemy any less urgent. Gabrielle knew they had to go through these very necessary tactical planning sessions in order to ensure victory, but She knew they were so close...She just wanted it to be over.
She had been restless ever since waking up in the Secure Bay of the Ouroboros. Gabrielle had delved deeply into the logs of the Zohor Dispatch Engine. She was eager for combat because She had seen and understood just what the Zohor had recorded into long-term memory: The destruction of billions of worlds, the slaughter of trillions of lives and life forms. Gabrielle, inside the Dispatch Engine, had chosen to bear witness to each recorded act of genocide committed by the Zohor. When She at last emerged, Gabrielle found that even Her hatred of the Nai’Marak could not come remotely close to Her loathing of the Zohor. They weren’t anything as complex as mass murderers; they had no agenda, no design or purpose except the elimination of biological life. The Zohor weren’t just mindless killing machines; they were also extremely good at what they did. It was the merciless indifference, the mechanical logic they applied to the mass slaughter that enraged Her. But Gabrielle also knew that the Zohor had never encountered an enemy like the El-Ahur. If they had, they wouldn’t have been so desperate as to take one of the El-Ahur’s most powerful allies and make Her into a weapon of their own. That weapon was now pointing back at the Zohor, and Gabrielle could not wait to be in position to strike the fatal blow those who had re-engineered Her.
♦♦♦
The three of them – well, the two of them and Six’s recorded Ghost – gathered in Benedict’s apartments. The Voyager had requested a drive-reader from a Macronaut-compatible system be sent to his chambers and now he stood side by side with the Ghost of Grandmaster Six and the Sentinel of Bloom’s Point.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Grandmaster,” the Sentinel said, reverently, “Though to be honest I don’t know if we’ve actually met”
“I know, I know,” Ghost Six said, “We can’t know for certain if I’m the Grandmaster who arrived at the start of your Aeons War, if it was Seven’s future self, or some other permutation we haven’t conceived of, yet.”
“Hey, I’m not dead,” Benedict said, “So, I’d appreciate not being assigned a number before I am.”
“You call me ‘Number Six’ all the time,” the Ghost said, “How am I supposed to take it? To me, it seems you’ve already given me up – and yourself – for dead.”
“Maybe I have,” Benedict countered.
The Sentinel made a sound that almost could have been an exasperated sigh, “This is the true reason I was always concerned about Past and Present Selves meeting. Especially among Humans: you hate in others what you hate about yourselves. You two are therefore natural enemies of one another, even as you both strive to save yourselves and each other.”
“Well then, maybe you can answer the question: Did I die?” Ghost Six asked, “The answer only affects the Me that recorded this mind – not Benedict Seven.”
“Fuck, can you at least call me the Voyager so I don’t feel like I’m the next in line at the guillotine?”
“Sorry,” Six said, turning from his past/alternate self to the Sentinel, “Well?”
“Unfortunately that’s not a question I can answer.” The Sentinel evaded, “I am bound to not answer it, no matter what the answer is. If your template self survived what happened and was in a secure location, I could not tell you for fear that your past or past-alternate Self would be affected by the knowledge; the Voyager might become overconfident, or worse, complacent. Likewise if your template self did not survive, the impact of that news on the Voyager could be devastating; irreparably. I can’t inform you directly either, for fear that it alters the way your program interacts with the Voyager.”
“So…I could be laughing it up somewhere on station and you can’t even tell me?”
“Precisely!”
The electronic Ghost turned to Benedict and they shared a mirror perfect smirk. They both knew that the Sentinel was deliberately taking these questions literally. They, both simulacra and simulated alike, decided to abandon that line of questioning.
“How are the equations running?” Benedict asked the Sentinel.
“Far more slowly than I’d imagined,” the Sentinel replied, “You are…both of you…all of you, really, such unstable and uncertain elements within the timeline that you’re far more likely to influence it than you are to be influenced by it. And being such unstable and mathematically irrational events, predicting the outcome of either of your time-streams is a complex task that may even be beyond my abilities to measure.”
