Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity (13 page)

Where would they go from here? They had a river, but its resources were finite. Much like Earth, most of Velsharn's water was salt water.

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Their hope lay in distillation, powered by the
Beijing
's reactors, but she strongly disapproved. That meant the
Beijing
would become a structure, a fixed part of the settlement.

But it would help keep the local population alive, and they had few other options. Initial reports of subterranean fresh water proved to be erroneous. The planet's tiny islands were just not meant to support the numbers they currently hosted. They would have to spread out, but this meant a division of resources. They had only so many shovels, hammers, and emergency rations. They had simultaneously too few and too many people.

Everything was okay now, but the future looked dark indeed. Maybe the Iilan robots would help, maybe the constructs on the
Rubens
—if the ship had survived at all—could help too.

Maybe Liao's mistakes had doomed them all.

The larger southern island chain was their best hope, but the Velsharn Research Colony had been there. She could not stand to live among the ghosts of those she'd killed, although a mere few tens of thousands seemed insignificant when compared to the Humans that had died.

Still, though, the loss of those Telvan Toralii hurt her more than she cared to admit.

She couldn't live in the past. That was not her way. She could not continue to serve as the
Beijing
's CO if she did that. She could not function in the present, feeling superfluous and empty as she did, and she stand the future. A future living without her child.

Her blood.

At one point, Liao had more "relatives" than Allison, than her parents. Ben had created clones; one was a clone of Qadan, the leader of the southern settlement she had destroyed.

One of them was her.

She had shot and killed the clone of Qadan. When he had shown her the clone of herself, she fled into the bowels of the
Giralan
.

That clone was dead now, the
Giralan
torn to pieces on the surface of Belthas IV. The singularity that had engulfed the planet consumed whatever remained of the body and, right at this moment, was slowly consuming that solar system.

Her parents had died on Earth. Every single one of her ancestors had managed to reproduce, to pass along their genetic code, then protect that code as it grew into a Human being and reproduced itself.

She was the greatest failure, the first and last failure of her line.

There was a term, "debellation". It was an obscure word meaning "defeat by utter destruction". It was an army fighting to the last man. Everything that made Liao herself, her spirit, her genetic code, had been wiped out.

Only one Melissa Liao now remained in the galaxy. With Avaran's threat ringing in her ears, to be the last Human alive in the world, she reached into the drawer of her desk, withdrew her Type 9 pistol, and put it to her temple.

A
CT
II

C
HAPTER
V

The Best of Both Worlds

*****

Near the
Giralan
crash site

Planet Belthas IV

Belthas system

T
HE
WIND
HOWLED
AROUND
HIS
body as the Telvan shuttle touched down nearby. The survivor watched it land, the sand stinging his eyes.

Or perhaps the pain was light hitting eyes he'd never used.

His. Her. Such distinctions now deserved consideration. He knew, at an academic level, that gender was a construction of society while sex was a biological condition. He'd always identified as male—it was not clear why, even to him—but it felt odd to be now inhabiting a biologically female body.

The shuttle's door opened.

["Human, we must go!"] shouted the Toralii who stood in the doorway. He beckoned towards the survivor, urging him aboard. ["The planet is coming apart!"]

The soil of Belthas IV trembled underneath his feet. ["They cannot understand you,"] came a reply from within. ["Bring it aboard, we can explain later!"]

The survivor's mouth and vocal chords couldn't form the sounds of the Toralii language, but he nodded to show he understood and stepped aboard the vessel. The male Toralii, a gunner, helped him.

It had been a long time since the survivor had stepped foot on a Toralii ship. He smiled as he did so, even as the shaking intensified. The shuttle's interior was full of Toralii soldiers. Some were wounded.

None appeared to be armed, except for the gunner. Presumably the pilot as well.

The ship lifted off the ground. In the distance, the burning wreckage of the
Giralan
trembled and vibrated as though seen through a heat mirage. The singularity would only be atoms wide but growing. The planet shook as though experiencing a tremor, and soon the singularity would soon consume all.

["I cannot see any other survivors,"] said the gunner. ["It is high time we left this world. Airmaiden Tur'vek, we must leave."]

["There could be more survivors!"]

["Then they are out of time and may no longer be considered amongst the living."]

With a snarl—angry, but acknowledging the truth of his words—the Airmaiden turned the vessel's nose skyward. ["Sky Gods protect them,"] she murmured, loud enough for the survivor to hear.

"Thank you," said the survivor, smiling to the Toralii who had plucked him from the world.

["I'm afraid I don't understand,"] the gunner replied.

To communicate his thanks, the survivor reached out, wrapping his arms around the gunner's body and hugging him close. The sensation was an odd one. Smell. Warmth. Sensory input flooded his brand new mind, almost overwhelming him. The sand and heat of the desert had been almost too much for him to process, but this was something else. Something more.

"Thank you."

The survivor reached around, drawing the plasma pistol from the Toralii's hip and discharging it into his fuzzy abdomen.

The Toralii gunner shrieked in pain. The survivor shot him again, square in the centre of mass, and his body dissolved into superheated hunks of meat.

The crew compartment of the Toralii shuttle erupted in panic. The pilot drew her own weapon but with a carefully placed shot, the survivor burned her to ashes, too.

Then he turned towards those in the rear of the vessel, carefully lining up his shots.

When it was all done, the smell surprised him. Rich, pungent, overwhelming. He clumsily donned one of the ill-fitting Toralii space suits and then flushed the shuttle to space. The survivor saw, through the external cameras, that the blood left a purple trail behind him. The shuttle bore a striking resemblance, in his mind, to a comet.

Fascinating.

Atmosphere returned, and with it the smell. Reduced but still overpowering.

Humans, it seemed, were apt at smelling blood. Unfortunately, their bodies were remarkably resistant to modification and could not turn off their sensors when they no longer provided useful information.

Biological creatures possessed many disadvantages to their design but many advantages as well. His ability to recognise faces seemed distinctly improved. He saw the world through a whole new range of sensors, and it was glorious.

Then his console glowed. The Toralii were talking to him—or trying to, at any rate—but he didn't want to interrupt this moment. His ability to multitask was significantly diminished. Instead, he'd gained something else. The ability to err. Being imperfect allowed him more options, not constrained to the "most optimal" choice. Overall it was a net gain.

"This is Ben Gunn. Request you patch me through to the Human forces, because you have no idea what I'm saying."

Would he need a new name? No. Ben was a Human name, and while his body was female now, such things were largely irrelevant. It was enough to be Ben.
 

It took some time for the Toralii to patch him through to the Task Force Resolution ships. He expected it would. His little ship drifted further and further away from the planet, away from the battle site and the growing gravimetric instability behind it. But then an English voice filled the Toralii cockpit.

"Attention, unknown vessel. This is the TFR
Tehran
. Identify yourself."

Ben didn't recognise the voice. Humans were good at this, as a rule, but he'd never heard about it. He remembered reading through the
Beijing
's databanks—a task performed at a speed only a computer could—but those memories, once logically arranged in his datacore, couldn't be readily accessed. Whoever this person was, he'd have no advantage over them.

Time to use one of those intrinsically Human gains.

"Good evening," said Ben, "I'm Ben Gunn. I've requisitioned this shuttle for my own purposes. There's no need to be alarmed."

"Decelerate immediately and prepare for docking with one of our recovery craft."

 
Well, the Humans weren't buying it. His ship continued to sail towards the Lagrange point. "That's not going to be possible."

"Unidentified shuttle, if you do not comply, you will be returned by force."

A glance at the shuttle's navigation computer told the full story. "Well, my systems indicate that I'll reach the Lagrange point before you're in effective weapons range." Anger surged within him, a chemical process that he savoured. "Besides, don't you have a planet to evacuate?"

There was a brief pause then the voice changed.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is Commander Farah Sabeen. Who am I speaking to?"

"Commander Sabeen, it's lovely to hear your voice. We never got to meet in person."

The voice did not answer right away. This was a bad sign. Perhaps they
had
met; Ben did not know every detail of Liao's life, of course, but reasonable guesses were acceptable. A pity they did not always pay off. "Is this Commander Liao?"

Was he? His body was genetically identical to hers, but one's voice was a combination of all manner of things, and her accent was quite different. Still, he was impressed; it was quite a skilful deduction to identify him.
 

"In a manner of speaking," Ben answered. "You should ask Commander Liao about what she saw aboard the
Giralan
. It might answer some of your questions."

Another pause. "Begin deceleration and prepare to be boarded."

"By now you must know who I am." He had attempted to impersonate Captain Grégoire's voice, to some degree of success. He'd reached into their ship's systems and manipulated their data. They had right to be suspicious.

"I'm beginning to get an idea," said Sabeen. "Do you think you can get away, Ben? Do you think we won't find you again? You don't have anything to trade with the Iilan this time. You have no weapons, no allies, nowhere to go."

"You'd be surprised how resourceful I can be."

Ben paid no attention to their squawking. To the endless attempts, without legitimate threat of violence, to force him to stand down.

His stolen Telvan shuttle sailed into the jump point and, with several hours to spare, Ben watched as the planet of Belthas IV began to break apart, its surface splitting into hunks of rock and debris. Gravimetric forces shattered its surface, and soon it would be gone.

He'd destroyed the place of his birth, his creation, and as it crumbled he experienced something… odd.

As a construct, he'd always maintained he felt emotions. Joy. Anger. Passion. But not like this. Those were just part of his programming; a programming that could be pulled apart and analysed, opened up and examined like an engine. The only thing that made him different from the millions of other constructs of his model was some subtle, unknown imperfection. With his mind in an organic computer, errors came more and more frequently and with greater effect. He knew this, logically, but he also knew something else.There was a profound sadness and pain within him as he watched Belthas IV crumble.

He wanted to enjoy this feeling, to bask in his sadness and revel in the chemical process it triggered in his brain, but he knew he could not. The Humans were after him, and he could not remain here. With several touches of the console, his ship jumped across the stars, to a safe location where he could be alone and think.

Operations

TFR
Tehran

"
Pedarsag
," swore Sabeen. "He jumped away?"

 
Her radar operator, Junior Lieutenant Veisi, confirmed it. "The target's gone, ma'am."

They couldn't do anything about it then. Sabeen removed the long-range communications headset. "Make a note in the ship's log. We don't know for sure it was Ben. From what we know of his specifications, his datacore wouldn't fit on a ship that size. His drones can't get too far away from it." She shook her head, speaking to the room more than to anyone specific. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Allah will provide answers in time," said Veisi. The statement caused nods around the room.

She wanted to press the issue, but more important matters required her attention first. "Where's Commander Iraj's Broadsword? Any sign of it?"