The Glorious Becoming (12 page)

“Defeated.”

Captivated, Thoor approached closer. “The Khuladi have been defeated?”

“Only once—only by the Nemesis. All other judged species have fallen subservient.”

“Tell me about them. Tell me everything—who they are, how this defeat came to be.”

Silence filled the room. Tauthin’s eyes deviated from Thoor’s just briefly, just long enough to look at the scientists before returning to the general again. The alien shook its head. “We know of the Nemesis only in namesake. The Great Denial occurred ages ago—before our species was judged.”

“Do not lie to me, captive.”

“Honesty has served me better than deceit. Were there an answer to provide, I would provide it. The Khuladi have hidden all knowledge of the Nemesis.”

“Do the Golathoch know the Nemesis?”

“It has been speculated,” answered Tauthin. “The Khuladi no longer know the Nemesis’ location. If the Golathoch possess this knowledge, perhaps you are the Khuladi’s means to reach
them
. Your homeworld would make an advantageous staging point. Even now, the Creations muster for a foe vastly superior to your species.”

“The Creations?”

“The Khuladi call them the Annihl. We call them the Creations. They are machines of war—destructors. They precede the Khuladi on the battlefield of judgment. Your forces cannot match them. This world will fall quickly.”

Thoor’s eyes narrowed. “Show me the Annihl.”

A bewildered expression came over Tauthin.

“Through the connection,” Thoor said, pointing to Ed. “I have seen the Khuladi and Nerifinn. I know this can be done.”

The Bakma’s face tightened, deepening the lines on his brow. A sign of reluctance. “That would be unwise.”

“Disobedience would be unwise.” Thoor bared his teeth. “You will show me the Annihl or you will suffer.”

For several moments, Tauthin’s dark purple gaze remained on Thoor. Then, very slowly, the alien looked at Ed. Tauthin’s reflection was clear in the Ithini’s oval lenses.

The transfer began.

The first reaction to hit Thoor’s face was a distinct refocusing, as if he was suddenly staring at an illusion that only he was privy to. Then came the shift. Thoor’s eyes opened widely, and for the faintest of moments, his entire body tensed. The next look that struck him was one of total mesmerization. The scientists in Confinement observed through the cell glass as Thoor’s head slowly tilted upward, following the form of something much larger than himself. Much larger than the room. The general’s upward gaze continued until Ed’s visual transfer released. The base connection was all that remained.

Thoor’s eyes refocused as he looked at Tauthin. The general’s expression was a mixed one—part allurement and part trepidation. Uncharacteristic of the god of The Machine.

“It is as I told you,” said Tauthin as Thoor stared at him in silence. “This world will fall quickly.”

8

MONDAY, MARCH 12
^TH
, 0012 NE

1700 HOURS

T
HE ATMOSPHERE
in the lounge was as spirited as Scott could remember it. Word of his fiery encounter with Tauthin had escaped from Esther to the rest of the unit.
Scott might have answers about the war!
That was the buzz. It was an exaggerated claim—Scott hardly had answers about the war—but, nonetheless, it sparked excitement throughout the lounge. It was exactly what the Fourteenth needed to divert their attention away from Max and Viktor’s fight.

The operatives were in their usual places. Dostoevsky sat with Viktor, Auric, and Egor at the all-Nightman table. Max was settled in with Becan, David, and Esther. William, Derrick, Travis, and Boris took up their customary table in the back, as Svetlana awkwardly shared space with Varvara. The sole person not at any table was Jayden. The Texan leaned against the back corner, arms folded, cowboy hat shrouding his face. Only Flopper seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the meeting’s subject matter, his tongue hanging merrily as he danced from one operative to the next, sniffing groins and biting at shoelaces, drawing more than a few bops on the nose.

Scott wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from this meeting. Typically, when a meeting was called, some form of announcement was in order. This would be more of a group conversation, informal and not following any real precedent. Would it be groundbreaking? Probably not. But interesting? Definitely.

“All right, crew.” Straightening his collection of chicken-scratch notes against the countertop, Scott faced the Fourteenth. “Here’s the rundown of what took place today. This morning, I brought Esther down to Confinement to break her in.”

“Well,
that’s
not very romantic,” said Max. Turning beet red, Esther glared.

It was impossible to hold a meeting without a juvenile comment. At least it was over with early. “After she was broken in
to Ithini connections
,” he said, eyeing Max sternly, “I talked with Tauthin myself. You guys know I go there pretty often for that purpose. It’s always interesting, but rarely revealing. Today, that changed a little.”

He glanced briefly at his topmost note. “Before I get too far into what Tauthin told me, I did want to mention some things. Those of you who remember that whole episode with Pelican Squad might recall that I ‘negotiated’ with a Bakma commander. There were a couple things I garnered from that—I just wanted to get them out in the open.” Clearing his throat, he read his notes aloud.

“‘You are unlike the warriors called EDEN. We are to bring you to Khuldaris, where you will be evaluated.’ That was the clearest thing I remember the Bakma telling me before our connection waned, but I
was
able to pick out four other words from the rest of what he said: interference, indication, allegiance, judgment. It’s their context that I couldn’t understand.”

The operatives listened with businesslike expressions.

“Here’s what I gather from that, and you can tell me what you think afterward. I don’t think Khuldaris is a person—it sounded like a place, maybe even a ship or a planet. That their intent was for us to be
evaluated,
and by
us
I mean the Nightmen present, tells me that they were there to specifically try and learn something. Their intent was to capture a Nightman.”

David nodded. “We did a number on their outpost in Siberia. We also repelled that assault on the base. I’m sure that caught their eye.”

“I think so, too,” said Scott. “I don’t think that’s groundbreaking information, but at least we know that not all of their missions here are combative in nature. It was some sort of recon attempt.” He looked at his notes again. “As for those other words, I just don’t know. Interference, indication, allegiance, judgment...without any kind of context, they’re just words to me.”

Max raised his hand. “What if the allegiance he was talking about was between EDEN and the Nightmen? It’s obvious he knew we were different.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. I think he thought that EDEN allied with us, without him realizing exactly who we were. Maybe our cooperation during that base defense last year
indicated
, as he put it, our allegiance. At least in his eyes.” His confident expression faded. “But that’s about as far as I’ve ever gotten. I have no idea what he meant by interference and judgment.”

Esther listened attentively, her expression deep in thought. “I’m not sure that’s correct. I’m not sure he was talking about the Nightmen and EDEN.”

“What do you mean?”

“Word order is important. He said interference, then indication, then allegiance. I think interference must indicate an allegiance.”

Becan crossed his arms. “You’re assumin’ their sentence structure is the same as ours.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” she replied. “The way connections work, we aren’t getting a literal word-for-word translation. We’re getting an overall translation of thoughts and concepts. The way I take his words, some kind of interference is indicating an allegiance of some sort, prompting judgment.” She looked at Scott. “Interference isn’t cooperation. It’s interference. Now, I wasn’t here for their attack on the base, but I’m assuming that EDEN and the Nightmen
cooperated
to defend it. That’s entirely different from the Nightmen—or EDEN—interfering to defend it. The only way interference would make sense would be if their war was solely against EDEN or the Nightmen, which clearly it isn’t.”

Scott was taking in every word Esther said.

She leaned back, crossing her legs. “Considering they’re at war against Earth, the only way something could
interfere
with anything on Earth would be if the interfering party weren’t from Earth to begin with. If you’re not from Earth, you’re an extraterrestrial. He couldn’t have meant the Ithini, because they
use
the Ithini. He had to be talking about the Golathoch. I think that
he
thinks the Golathoch have allied themselves with humanity.”

His face deadpanned, Scott stared at Esther in awe. Could she really have deduced that that simply? He was listening, but stunned.

Esther continued. “So the big question is, why does he think they’ve allied with us? Clearly, he wasn’t aware that we’re being
attacked
by the Golathoch. Regardless, the Golathochs’ presence here is seen as an interference to some greater purpose. And now that I think about it, that actually makes sense.”

Scott’s head was spinning. “How does that make sense?”

“Because he used the word
judgment
. What do you think of when you hear the word
judgment
?”

“...I think of someone passing judgment.”

She eyed him stupidly. “Be specific, Scott. This was your connection, not mine or anyone else’s. What do
you
think of?”

It was rare that Scott felt like an imbecile, but this was one of those times. He knew the answer she was trying to get from him—he knew it immediately, and she was right. But the answer was momentarily lost in the overwhelming sense for just how brilliant this young woman was. He had wrestled with those four words for months. She’d picked them apart in minutes. And just like that, this was starting to make sense. “I think of God.”

Esther smiled. “Precisely. God passes judgment, Scott. That’s what you think of when you hear that word. The Golathoch’s interference is indicating an allegiance, prompting some sort of religious judgment, as executed by the instruments of God. The only instruments of God the Bakma could be referring to, at least that we know of, are themselves. This is a holy war.”

Eyes widening, Becan asked, “Esty, did you seriously jus’ come up with all o’ tha’?”

“I must confess,” she sighed mirthfully, “I sometimes shock myself.”

Svetlana rolled her eyes.

Scott was as impressed as the majority. “All right, hold on for a minute. I want to sort this out.” It made perfect sense—every word she’d said. Now if only he could remember
what
she’d said. “Esther, very slowly, summarize that again?”

The scout beamed. “Of course. The Bakma think that someone’s interference—and I think the Golathoch make the most sense as candidates—is indicative of an alliance between them and ourselves. Because of this, judgment must be passed. Judgment from God, as passed by the Bakma. Now, he didn’t come out and say that this war was ordained by God, but if he was using God as a declarer of judgment, which is how Scott would have interpreted it through his custom-fit connection, then we can at least hypothesize that God has something to do with this war, at least from their perspective. At least, enough to impact the war in other areas.”

From the back of the room, Svetlana cleared her throat. “In saying this, Esther, you are assuming that all Bakma attribute elements of war to God. What if this was one Bakma’s opinion? If the connection was custom-fit for Scott, then it was custom-fit for the Bakma, too.”

“Sveta’s got a valid point,” said Scott, “and I’d be inclined to believe it, except that Tauthin mentioned judgment today, too.”

Esther smiled at Svetlana smugly.

“Tauthin took it a step further than that, though. He said that
his
species, the Bakma, had been judged. He said the same thing about some other species, the Nerifinn. The way he made it sound—and this is the first time I’ve ever heard anything like this—is that his species was subservient to another. It sounded like multiple species were being judged, then enslaved.”

“So, you think the Bakma are fighting on behalf of someone else?” asked David. “Could that be where Khuldaris comes into play?”

“I don’t know. It could be.”

Travis cocked his head curiously. “When you went through that whole negotiation a few months ago, didn’t you say that the Ithini looked subservient to the Bakma? Would that mean there are tiers?”

It was another question Scott couldn’t answer. “I think there have to be. Tauthin referred to Ed today as
slave
. Can slaves have slaves? I don’t know. All I know is that, judging from what I heard today and what Esther just pieced together, I’m actually starting to get a little bit of a picture, here.”

“There’s no way we’re the first ones to figure this out,” David said. “That’s just not possible. We’ve been at war for ten years. Not one year—ten. Someone has to know about this already.” He looked at Dostoevsky. “Do you think Thoor knows?”

The fulcrum commander sighed, concern etched on his face. “What Thoor knows is a mystery to all but the most revered Nightmen—his personal counsel.” He looked at Scott. “I know who some of these men are. Saretok is one of them.”

“Hey, wasn’t that that guy with the mohawk?” asked William.

“Yes, him.”

The demolitionist grinned. “Scott whipped his tail.”

“Oleg is one, too,” said Dostoevsky, frowning. “One or two other men come to mind...Antipov, Marusich...I know these names mean nothing to you, but they are among the general’s most trusted. I am sure there are others, but these are the most highly-regarded.” He paused. “And I know that Thoor knows more than he makes known.”