Authors: Kristine Smith
Contact Imminent
Kristine Smith
Thalassa Commonwealth Colony of Elyas Summer, Year One
“Coppélia is a classic tale. In it, a doctor namedâ¦
Jani checked every room and alcove as she walked downâ¦
“If the mine was deliberately planted, how do you thinkâ¦
The library had a bar. They all made use ofâ¦
A muddle of images. Wode's face as he turned toâ¦
Micah Faber keyed into his flat, waiting until the doorâ¦
Elon stood outside the entry to nìaRauta Shai's rooms andâ¦
Elon sat in the veranda enclosure, cradling her bandaged rightâ¦
“I'm a colonial, too, Jan, a point you seem allâ¦
“Fort Karistos has sent up a welcoming party to meetâ¦
The rear opening of the cubbyhole led to a seriesâ¦
Jani walked around to the bay side of the house,â¦
“Ná Kièrshia! Ná Kièrshia!”
“'Morning, scholar.”
Micah expected to find MPs waiting beside his desk whenâ¦
Elon entered the primary meeting room to find Tsecha standingâ¦
John steered the skimmer up the narrow two-lane skimway, slowingâ¦
“I messaged the fort from a public comport. Told themâ¦
Jani wandered the lower level of the house for theâ¦
Jani sat at the bedroom window, examining her scanpack underâ¦
“Haven't seen Pascal around Far North Lakeside as much sinceâ¦
“I still maintain that the challenge must be delayed.” Tsecha,â¦
“The second worst thing about waiting, besides the actual waitingâ¦
The ground floor was quiet enough that Jani could hearâ¦
“This story isn't very detailed.” Jani bit into a pieceâ¦
Jani opened her eyes. She could sense morning through theâ¦
“I wonder what it will be like here tomorrow atâ¦
Elon sat at her worktable and monitored the embassy securityâ¦
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Val steered theâ¦
Blood streamed from the wounds on Lucien's arms and drippedâ¦
“Hey hey!” Niall gave Jani a thumbs-up sign. “Pull, talkâ¦
Jani sat silent as Niall drove them past the shatteredâ¦
Prime Minister Li Cao's Family estate cut an enviable swathâ¦
It was possible to arrange the transport of an enclave'sâ¦
“Who is that youngish, nìa?” Tsecha leaned forward so heâ¦
My name is Torin Clase, and I have been charged with writing the story of Jani Kilian. Who she is, and how she came to be.
A quarter century ago a Vynshà priest named nà Tsecha Egri prophesied that one day his race, the idomeni, and my race, the humanish, would blend in the fullness of time to form a single people. In his quest to promote his vision, Tsecha compelled his people to allow humanish to live on the idomeni homeworld of Shèrá, and to establish a consulate on the outskirts of the dominant city of Rauta Shèrà a.
Tsecha also compelled the idomeni to allow humanish into their dominant educational institution, the Academy. That first class of six students learned documents protocols from the race that devised them, as tensions grew between those bornsect idomeni who feared the humanish presence within the Shèráin worldskein and those few who believed that Tsecha's blending prophecies defined the future.
When these tensions erupted into civil war, one of those six humanish graduates, Jani Kilian, had attained the rank of Captain in the Commonwealth Service. As she worked to mediate relations between humanish and idomeni, she learned of illegal dealings between them that would have
given victory to the ultraconservative elements of the idomeni and bolstered repressive forces within the humanish government. But when she acted to expose this conspiracy, she was killed, murdered as the transport in which she rode exploded on takeoff outside the hospital-shrine of Knevçet Shèrà a.
But killed and dead are two different things. Kilian was saved by a humanish physician named John Shroud, who re-fashioned her using idomeni genetic material. He believed he had inactivated what he considered the undesirable aspects of that material, but he had not.
As the war drew to its bloody conclusion, Kilian escaped with her life. For almost twenty years she lived a fugitive existence in the colonies, on the run from her past, each day growing more aware of the change that had begun to claim her. Last year, she traveled to the Commonwealth homeworld of Earth for the first time, to the capital of Chicago. There she investigated crimes that provided her with the links between her past and her future, and revealed to her the path she was destined to follow as the first of her kind. The first hybrid.
She lives in Chicago still, working with the idomeni embassy and studying the ways of a priest with nà Tsecha, whom she calls “inshah.” Teacher. Doing that which she is bound to do, for she is, as nà Tsecha named her, the Kièrshia, the “toxin,” the bringer of pain and change. She is also, as I have said before, the first.
And I so wish to meet herâ¦
“Chicago is a cold place. In every way.”
Clase,
Thalassan Histories, Book I
“
Coppélia
is a classic tale. In it, a doctor named Coppélius builds a clockwork doll and tries to give her life.” Colonel Niall Pierce sat with his booted feet propped on the edge of the portable comâarray console, hands folded primly in his lap. “A young couple, Franz and Swanilda, cross his path. Franz falls in love with the doll, named Coppélia, whom he thinks is a real girl. Swanilda becomes determined to find out more about this mysterious beauty who has stolen her lover's heart, and breaks into the doctor's house to find her.” He leaned back, the harsh overhead light washing out his bronze Service burr to pale brown and casting his features in sharp relief. Narrow. Angled. The wolf in repose. “And it's a comedy, I'll have you know. Nobody dies.”
“Imagine my amazement.” Jani Kilian tucked her hands inside the sleeves of her field coat and huddled against the curved wall of the prefab bunker. Outside, freezing rain fellâshe could hear it patter on the domed roof. Insets in the polyfoam wall and floor supplied the heat that made the space bearableâshe pressed against the hard smoothness, soaking up all the warmth she could. “I thought someone had to keel over every five minutes for an opera to qualify as a classic.”
“
Coppélia
is a
ballet
, not an opera.” Niall tilted his head back and spread his hands palms up, begging the ceiling for respite. “I told you all about it at lunch last week, but it appears to have slipped your mind.” He turned to look toward the figure who sat on the floor next to Jani. “Have you ever attended a ballet, nà Tsecha? Humanish dancing?”
“No, Colonel.” Nà Tsecha Egri, the Haárin dominant, shook his head back and forth, his latest adoption of humanish gesture. “I have seen plays, and holo Vee programs. Histories and such. No dancing.” He pushed up the edge of his headscarf with one gold-skinned finger and scratched his scalp. “Nìa,” he leaned close to Jani, his voice falling to a whisper, “ballet is leaping about to music?”
“Pretty much, inshah.”
“I saw a dancing goat once. Is that as ballet?”
“It is quite similar, yes.” Jani unfolded to her feet and walked across the shelter to join Niall at the console. She placed a hand on his shoulder, felt his warmth through his blue fatigue shirt, and tried to remember the days when she could feel warm under conditions like this. “Any change?”
Niall glared in injury, the scar that cut his left cheek from his nose to the corner of his mouth deepening as he frowned. “A dancing goat?” His eyes spoke to the frustrated patron of the arts that he was. Honey-brown and long-lashed, his only handsome feature, they were currently laced with aggravation and regret over missed performances and unappreciative students who ignored lunchtime instruction.
Jani offered a rueful grin. “I'm sorry you couldn't attend your ballet. I know you looked forward to it.” She dragged a stool from beneath the console and sat next to him, then pointed to the display screen in the center of the flickering communications array. “Doesn't look any different than it did twenty minutes ago.”
“Part of that's the fact that the pickup's malfunctioning. Our comtech should be back any minute with the replacement parts.” Niall sighed. “The image straightens out every few minutes. From what I can see, they're still clearing
snow. Marking out the cordon.” He massaged the back of his neck. “Mine clearance is one of those dichotomous activities. Nerve-wracking to perform, but boring as all hell to watch. Especially when no one seems to be doing anything.”
“I heard that.” A male voice laced with annoyance emerged from the array's speaker system. “If you're both bored in that nice, warm,
dry
bunker, two hundred meters from all the stuff that goes
boom
, I'd be more than happy to trade places with you.”
Niall and Jani looked at one another and smiled. “Hey, Pull,” Niall said with a laugh. “How's it going?”
“Saturday night at the Haárin enclaveâwhat a rip-roaring place.” The irritation in Lieutenant Randal Pullman's voice was palpable.
Jani glanced back at Tsecha, who had risen and now walked across the bunker to join them. He stood taller than she by a headâthe top of his headscarf grazed the light fixture as he passed beneath it, sending it swinging back and forth and casting his thin frame in weird shadows on the wall.
“Rip-roaring, nìa?” Tsecha stood over Jani, arms folded and hands tucked in his sleeves, his long face skull-like. “What is rip-roaring?”
No sound emerged from the speaker for a time. Then came a throat-clearing cough. “Is that you, nà Tsecha?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Pullmanâglories of the night to you.” Tsecha glanced at Jani and bared his teeth, cracked amber eyes bright with humor. “What is rip-roaring?”
“Rip-roaring? It'sâitâ” A long sigh rattled. “Ah, boy.”
“Out with it, Pull.” Niall's shoulders shook.
“Rip-roaring meansâ¦exciting, nà Tsecha. Thrilling.” Pullman's voice grew softer with each passing syllable. “Electrifying.”
“So you find standing in deep snow late at night an excitement? I learn more of you each day, Lieutenant.” Tsecha's air of mischief faded. “What of the mine?”
Pullman's voice emerged more businesslike. “From what
I have been able to determine thus far, nà Tsecha, the mine is most likely a remnant from an old field exercise. The Service used to operate training facilities here before the land was leased to the idomeni.”
“What sort of mineâhave you yet determined such?”
“No. NÃ Tsecha. That's still under investigation.”
“It is a trainer, as you say? Or a dud? Such objects emit signals particular to their type, do they not? One simply identifies the signal, and thus the type of mine, and removes it accordingly.”
“Yes. NÃ Tsecha. We have not yet identified the signal.”
Jani glanced at Niall to find him regarding her, his face set with concern. They had both sensed Pullman's reluctance to discuss the situation.
They've had two hours to ID that mine, and they haven't yet. What's the problem?
She reached for the console controls and tapped one of the pads. The flat display shimmered, then the two-dimensional image pushed out from the screen, lengthening and widening to form a three-dimensional layout of the mine site. The casualty radius, centered by a black X and encircled by an orange ring two hundred meters in diameter, stared out like a huge bull's-eye. The image stuttered every few seconds as the relays miscued, but it remained steady enough to discern the movement of personnel and equipment, both human and idomeni. “There's the demolitions tech.” Jani pointed out the lone figure standing within the cordon, operating the remote-control 'bot that cleared snow from around the mine. “He's still digging the thing out, but I can already spot it at this scale. Why's he still working?”
“Where is Dathim?” Tsecha leaned over the console and searched the miniaturized scene for the towering figure of his suborn. “I will contact him and learn what he knows.” He walked to the far side of the bunker as he dug inside his coat for his handcom.
Niall leaned close to the speaker and dropped his voice. “OK, Tsecha stepped away for a while,” he said, the sharp
tones of Vynshà rau Haárin serving as background. “What's going on?”
In the three-dimensional image, a figure at the edge of the cordon raised a hand. Pullman, kitted out in grey and white winter camou topped with a layer of body armor. “The disposal tech thinks that some water got into the brain of the mine and is screwing up the thing's ability to respond to signals. I'd never heard of that happening, but your guy confirmed. Faber, your comtech. He's at the supply truck hunting for parts for your console.”
Niall edged about in his seat as he studied the scene. “So if the tech doesn't know what kind of mine we're dealing with, how the hell is he setting up?”
“According to Ordnance, it's one of two types. Either a Slager that's live but sans detonator, or a Beekman trainer that's most likely a dummy but could be live as well. The Slager's casualty radius is the greater of the two at one hundred meters, so that's what we've gone with.” Pullman-in-miniature paced a tight circuit on the edge of the cordon. “It's getting tense here, sir. The Vynshà rau have already gone nose-to-nose a couple of times with our folks. They're picking apart the fact that one of our demis detected the mine signal in the first placeâthey want to know why we were flying that far inland over their territory. Diplomats from both sides are weighing in with all kinds of questions and demands, and to top off this shitcream sundae, I don't think this tech could find his ass at high noon in the Hall of Mirrors.”
Niall patted the front pocket of his shirt, the usual resting place for his nicstick case. “Who's handling the diplomats from our team?”
“Dubrovna. Problem is, everyone at this level is used to dealing with Cal Burkett. Hard to back down to a major when you're used to dealing with a general.”
“So why the hell isn't Burkett there now?”
“He's with the PM, sir, back in Chicago. They're patched
in via the same live feed you have. It's my understanding that they're briefing Ambassador Shai.”
Niall massaged the back of his neck in earnest. “Tell me about the tech.”
Pullman muttered something foul under his breath. “Name's Wode, sir. Lance Corporal Rikkiâtwo k's and an i. Supposed to be good, but you wouldn't know it from the way he's fartin' around out here. He's recalibrated his equipment four times already, and if he digs out any more around that mine, the entire forest floor is going to collapse.”
Jani tried to imagine the thoughts going through Wode's mindâsurrounded by testy soldiers and bureaucrats of two species, mindful that every move he made, or didn't make, would be examined under a dozen microscopes, each using a different filter. “A Slager would require one type of code to ensure disarm, a Beekman another. A cross-up in signals would precipitate a crisis I don't even want to think about. If the mine brain is malfunctioning and he's unsure about which type he's dealing with anyway, isn't it better that he take his time?”
“He has to make a decision sometime, ma'am, or hand it over to someone who can. We have to clear this thing and get these people and idomeni out of here before a fistfight breaks out.” Pullman's image seemed to stride atop the console board from one set of touchpads to another. “Why can't we just clear the area and blow it up? Hell, we could have blown it up from Sheridan.”
Niall hung his head. “We have to be able to show the intact device to Ambassador Shai and prove it didn't pose a danger to the Haárin.”
“They're not willing to take our word for it?” Pullman asked.
“Over the last three months, four Haárin have been attacked and the enclave itself has twice been the target of vandalism. The newssheets are questioning the presence of the Haárin enclave so close to the Commonwealth capital, and the last time Ambassador Shai's skimmer floated
through Chicago unescorted, somebody heaved a brick at it.” Jani could sense Niall's stare, and avoided it. Sometimes she felt as though he didn't want her to talk about the worsening relations between the idomeni and humanish, as if doing so made matters worse. “Given that,” she continued more quietly, “I don't think they'd take your word for the time of day, do you?”
Pullman-in-miniature kicked at the snow. “No, ma'am.”
Jani sensed someone approach from behind, and turned to find Tsecha standing at her shoulder. “Dathim has told me that Shai has sent nìa Rauta Elon to see to this matter, along with her suborns, nìRau Ghos and nìRau Feres.” Tsecha turned his head to face his left, then brought up his left hand chest-high, palm facing outward. It was a High Vynshà rau gesture of dismay, of the sort he seldom employed since his outcast to Haárin. That he felt compelled to express his consternation in such a definite manner said all that needed to be said about Elon. “I recall her from my time as ambassador. The Council willed her as my security dominant; thus was I forced to tolerate her.” He broke off his posture and looked to Niall. “I should attend this matter, Colonel. Your Lieutenant Pullman should not be left alone to deal with such as Elon.”
“No, nà Tsecha. Sorry.” Niall shook his head. “While your concern is appreciated, your assistance is not required. We have Major Dubrovna to deal with nìaRauta ElonâLieutenant Pullman is safe.” He patted his shirt pocket again, his longing for a dose of nicotine etched in every line of his face.
“You have not dealt with Elon. She is as a mine whose signal you do not know!”
“You stay
here
!” Niall's voice shook the air in the small space. “Nà Tsecha. Please.” He sat forward, hands dangling between his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor as he struggled to regain his composure. “To most Chicagoans, you are still the symbol of the idomeni presence on Earth. That presenceâ¦is being questioned by some humanish at the
present time, and because of that, both your dominants and mine feel that you should not be observed involving yourself in this matter.”
“OK.” Jani stepped between the two, man and idomeni, and felt the current of tension that flowed between them. “That explains why you're keeping Tsecha holed up here.” She stared down at Niall until he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Why am I here?”
They studied one anotherâJani sensed the time pass just as she discerned Niall's examination, just as she knew how she appeared in his eyes. The strange golden cast to her brown skin. Her long-limbed gangliness. Her eyes, dark green irises surrounded by the paler sea of sclera, eyes unlike those any human being ever possessed.
Niall took a deep breath. “You know damned well why you're here. Everywhere Tsecha goes, you're never far behind. You're as much associated with the idomeni presence here as he is. You'reâ” He reached into his pocket, then yanked out his hand as though it burned.