Earth Song: Etude to War (7 page)

“Then why?” she almost cried. “You've held that debt over our heads for more than a century, demanding our service and obedience. For what then?”

“As I said, it has to do with the Awakening. What is needed more than anything else is time. What you have earned for us, with some small exception, will all be returned to you, with interest.”

“So we were simply your servants?”

P’ing didn’t answer, but just waited. The afternoon dim light outside shone through windows making hser eyes glimmer.

“How do we make the formal request for Awakening?”

“The highest ranking member appointed by a client species to represent them in matters before their guardians must make that claim on their behalf, and in their best interests.”

The room felt like it was slowly draining of air. In years of service she’d never backed down from a challenge, never failed to face death when it came calling, and never made a gamble that didn’t pay off, though not always the way she’d planned it. But she'd never been faced with a decision that affected more than herself or a few hundred others. Never an entire planet full of her own people. “I am the highest representative of Humanity.”

“You have been promoted and left this post.”

“I was promoted, but the post remains mine. The formal description of the position states that the current office holder retains title until his or her replacement is named. No replacement has been named. The decision is mine to make.

P’ing stared with hser unblinking eyes.

“Then what is your decision, Minu Groves?”

Chapter 6

Data was shared through the trillions of cubic light-years of the Concordia via many different means. Some moved in message packets carried by living couriers. This data was most often secure and of a military or industrial nature. Some moved from Portal to Portal through laser and beam pulse communicators. And a vast amount was transmitted using an ancient network of quantum burst transmitters.

These transmitters used quark echo imaging to send signals that could be simultaneously received at any conceivable distance. And tied into the all-present Concordian data network, few were even aware they existed or questioned how information from worlds ten thousand light-years away was instantly available to them as it was generated.

An automated scout ship, one of hundreds that plied the galaxy on an unending circuit of exploration and verification, discovered something it had been told to be on the lookout for more than a million years ago. The robotic scout ships carried protocols for thousands of things to watch for, but this one thing was important both in its assigned priority, and that it was the last real time order given to the ships.

The data was forwarded through the quantum communication network, instantly appearing in billions of computer networks throughout the galaxy and available should anyone choose to look for it. As luck would have it, someone was looking for just this data.

An Ancient intelligence stirred to higher alertness as the information arrived. Old beyond imagining, they slept for centuries at a time, always awake on some levels, watching how civilization moved and changed. They responded to these changes in the way a sleeper rolls over or adjusts the covers, in an automatic and non-conscious fashion.

They were watchers, manipulators, the silent chessmasters. Six years ago (an imperceptible blink to them), a ship had been spotted, and the watchers took notice. Active observation was increased by a fraction. The spotting could be erroneous, a fluke. This time when it was spotted, they were prepared to respond. Contact was initiated with a new asset. For a plan to be put into motion, more information was required.

Julast 17th, 533 AE

Chosen Headquarters, Steven's Pass, Bellatrix

“You have no ability to control your own actions!” Jacob raged at her. “You go to Herdhome just to find out more about who might have starships, and you come back saying we can be released from the Tog if you just say so? Who do you think you are?”

“Someone who is trying to look out for our people’s interest.”

“That is not your decision to make.”

“Why do you think I'm here now?”

“I don't know, to brag? I'm surprised you didn't make the phenomenally stupid decision to separate from the Tog by yourself.”

“I'm not so sure it would be a stupid decision.” All seven sitting members of the Chosen council (plus Minu and Jacob) were gathered in emergency session, something that had last happened at the beginning of the Rasa vendetta more than thirteen years ago. Now all eyes turned to the speaker, Bjorn Ganose, who despite wearing a civilian suit also wore two silver stars on his cuffs. These days he split his time between a civilian scientific research institute and teaching at the University of Tranquility and seldom attended the council meetings, especially since being replaced as head of the science branch.

“We're not interested in your opinions,” Jacob snapped.

“You aren't the one to make that decision,” Dram reminded him, “and you know that.”

“Know your place, Aluvala!” Dram's bright eyes flashed dangerously. Luckily for Jacob, someone else stepped in.

“We are all here to be heard, First.” Of all people, it was Jasmine Osgood who spoke this time. If Minu had to make a list of those least likely to come to her aid, the black-haired Peninsula woman would be near the top of that list.

“Thank you,” Minu said and nodded to Jasmine as she stood. The science branch head gave a small smile in reply. “I've been chasing the truth of the Concordia's secrets since my career began as a Chosen. Everywhere we turn we're faced with contradictions, fabrications, and lies.

“Why are we the only hominid when there are multiple examples of every other biological type imaginable, in some cases hundreds of examples? And there are no records of our types going back as far as the Concordia's conveniently self-erasing records go.” Minu began ticking off points with fingers of her left hand.

“Why is the galaxy full of junk piles and ghost planets? All the evidence indicates our planet is an artificial construct, made habitable and then moved in its orbit as many as four times as the sun slowly grows more dangerous. What happened to that technology? We're told they abandoned starships as impractical, a waste of assets. And now we find out they're not only still around, but there are a fuckload of them flitting about the galaxy.

“And now I find out there is an even bigger lie, right before our faces. We don't owe the Tog a damned thing. They saved us out the goodness of their hearts, then kept us as their servants, their
slaves,
for more than a century, just so we would feel beholden to them and not demand to be free. Why? Because if we were free we'd be 'Awakened', and know the truth.

“Whatever that truth is it's so terrifying that some species do not survive its revelation. Awakening is their highest law, a law that itself is secret. Breaking that law brings a fate down on you just like the Rasa got for daring to piss off the T'Chillen.”

The circle of councilors all watched her with wide eyes, none daring to speak or even move. Minu took a breath and leaned back on the table she'd been standing next to. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her breath felt ragged.

“And the icing is P'ing saying that us getting involved in all of this risks destroying the entire galaxy! It would be an outrageously fanciful farce, if not told by a Tog. Something more is going on than we understand, and I'm so close to it I can taste it. This is much bigger than me and him,” she said and casually pointed at Jacob.

The man sat, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes shooting gigawatts of hatred at her. She wondered if he'd heard a thing she said.

“The truth of this is something we don't have to know, we must know. Now. Will you allow me to set us free?”

* * *

Minu never found out the vote, only that it didn't go in her favor. “You are restricted from requesting Awakening of Humanity by the Tog,” she was instructed in the email. “This is the ruling of the council.” She stored the message with a sigh. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

She was back in her comfortable office in the War College, going through the bios of the newest class about to begin in a few weeks once Julast let go and September finally arrived. The temperature outside hovered near thirty-two Celsius, not a bad day for mid-Julast in Tranquility. There were even a few clouds to provide occasional shade. She tried to enjoy it, but the defeat by the council just wouldn't give her any rest.

“Ariana, I'm going out—”

She stopped and laughed at herself for forgetting her assistant was taking care of a newborn. So she pushed the 'away' button on her phone panel, grabbed a shoulder bag and her floppy hat, and headed out the door.

The weather in the university quad was as delightfully nice as it had appeared from her window several stories above. The dormitories were beginning to fill with students of all ages, many coming for classes in her War College. Those were often easy to spot among the crowds. As a whole they tended to be a bit older, somewhat better educated than the average new student, and a whole lot more serious. They dressed in common manner, usually working class garb, and tended to shun a lot of the high-tech gadgets so popular among the young of this generation. And the majority were black.

It was an accident that the Desert Tribe was the hotbed of soldier recruitment. Something about the Rangers called to them more than any of the other tribes. Minu would have expected the Rusk to send their young, but they seemed to want the glory without the education. She was making officers here, leaders that would take the next generation of Rangers and Chosen to the destiny she hoped humanity was set for. But after her failed attempt to convince the council that freedom was worth the price, whatever that was, she was afraid now that her own generation would not live to see that destiny.

Off to one side a group of twenty young men and women were playing a pickup game of football. They weren't the ones attending on athletic scholarships. Those students mostly stayed in the newer western dorms, closer to the sports complex. Her War College building butted up against the old physics department, just across from the Humanities College. These were probably liberal arts students, local Plateau and New Jerusalem kids by the looks of them.

Minu watched them play for a while, the group reveling in their youth and newfound freedom before classes began in another week. Had any of them tried to become Chosen in the recent Trials two years ago and failed? Most looked young and strong; even if they'd fallen short as Chosen, they were all still prime candidates for the Rangers. Then she realized that they might have never even considered service as an option.

“What must that be like?” she wondered aloud.

She found an unoccupied bench and sat, putting her bag next to her and drawing out her tablet. Class schedules and student profiles scrolled down the page as she occasionally watched the kids play their game.

“One of them could have been me,” she mumbled, just a random thought. Then she really considered it. What if she had taken her father’s suggestion and went to college instead of the Chosen? She'd have graduated years ago, probably be working in a technical firm somewhere on Bellatrix. Would she have married in that world as well? Maybe have a child too?

“Safe to say that kid wouldn't be sixteen years old and the Combat Intelligence of a starship.”

It was a strange feeling to wonder if you'd made the right decisions in your life, and Minu didn't like it. She'd considered walking away from the Chosen several times over the years. She'd even done it once, years ago because the Chosen council wouldn't take her recommendations to build the network of forts that now dotted the planet. It was P'ing who had brought her back with a promise that her ideas would be listened to, and they had been.

That work was done now. The Rangers were doing well, especially under Gregg as a skilled commander. There were six forts in strategic locations, each housing thousands of Rangers. Bellatrix would not be an easy nut to crack by all but the best of the higher order species. Her War College was begun as well, a dream she'd had for some time.

So what was left for her to accomplish as a Chosen? Couldn't she do more as a civilian now? At a faculty function a month ago, over drinks and finger food, Ted Hurt had suddenly suggested she run for a Tranquility Tribal Council opening coming up in the winter recess. Minu had laughed at the idea only to see the majority of the staff agreeing with him. She'd almost thrown a drink in his face until she saw how serious they were. Everyone agreed that having a former Chosen academic on the planetary ruling body would be a wonderful thing.

She'd quickly moved the conversation in a new direction, but she'd never quite forgotten that night. In fact she'd sent a few tentative emails and found out that a lot of the people she knew were not only supportive of the notion, but willing to support her with their bank accounts.

“Is it really such a crazy idea?” she wondered. Without really considering it, she began mentally formulating her letter of resignation.

“Chosen Groves?”

Minu looked up to see a man in his sixties standing there, a groundskeeper’s uniform nearly hung from his gaunt frame and he held a rake in one hand. “Dean Groves is fine,” she said with a smile, “or just Minu. Can I help you?”

He scooped the floppy hat from his head and rung it between his hands in a nervous motion before remembering to don it again to cover his bald head from the deadly rays. “I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I've seen you here from time to time and always wanted to talk to you.”

“You're welcome to talk to me any time you want, I'm just a staff member, like yourself.” She shifted her focus to the man and away from the letter that she had begun composing on her tablet.

“No, no, no,” he said and shook his head. There was little hair left there, a halo like wisp of curly white, his face lined and tanned from a lifetime working outdoors. But his eyes were a brilliant blue and carried more intelligence than many men she'd met. “Begging your pardon ma'am, but you're not like me. I'm just an old man, but an old man with a family, thanks to your family.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand,” she said, confused.

“Thirty-five years ago I worked for the Chosen as a botanist. I wasn't Chosen, but I had skills that they didn't, so I got to go along off world from time to time to help in research for the Tog. On my last mission, we were attacked by an alien species. Most of my team was wiped out. Me and two other civilians hid in a dead city for two weeks, waiting to be found and killed. Then Chriso Alma showed up with a team of scouts and brought us home. He'd been searching for us for the whole time. He risked his life and his team for three civilians.”