The new team continued talking, asking questions, and arguing. Freya was
used to being conscripted for missions, and fighting for causes she didn’t
know anything about. It was just part of her life, so even though she wasn’t
sure she wanted to do this, it was no longer in her nature to try to get out
of it. These other people had no such experiences. They were polite and
careful, but didn’t just agree to this blindly. If there was one thing Freya
learned about the Maramon, it was that they weren’t very cunning, and they
did not play the long game. If one of them approached you, and asked for
your help, they were probably—honestly—one of the good ones, and knew that
you were good too. Good Maramon like Khuweka were rare, and seemed to only
become that way after spending time with decent human beings, but they were
not raised as such. They developed in a universe that was literally smaller
than most, and suffered a lack of resources beyond most people’s
conceptions. They were angry and spiteful, and they only ever showed
potential for change on the individual level, when they were removed from
society, and their people’s bizarre worldview.
As one might expect, the ethicist, Professor Spellmeyer was the hardest to
convince, while Limerick was the easiest. He didn’t know anything about the
Ochivari, but he deliberately chose to think of them as insects, rather than
insectoids, which would make wiping them out less like genocide, and more
like large scale pest control. The Ochivari were somehow dragonfly-based,
but they were not dragonflies, and did not evolve from them. According to
what little data people were able to gather on them, their skin looked like
that of a bug’s, but it was not an exoskeleton, and they were shaped like
humans, complete with arms, legs, fingers, and toes. Their wings were not
useless, but they did not allow them to fly. They used them in battle, to
blow gusts of winds at their opponent, or to dodge attacks. They were very
fragile, however, and even though damaging one didn’t cause too terribly
much pain for the victim, they weren’t likely to heal, and doing so did
lessen any advantage they had.
Freya called all this the source variant, which was a term one of her
friends coined to refer to a subspecies that developed on an alien planet.
They originally came from human DNA, which was shipped across the galaxy,
and seeded on other habitable worlds. So they came from humans, but each
unique environment shaped each unique population in unique ways. By being
exposed to a different atmospheric composition, being fed different foods,
and possibly by interstellar radiation, their genetic make-up was
transformed into something different; probably always humanoid, but
rarely—if ever—passably human. Freya and Zektene spent time on a planet with
two of these source variants. The Orothsew were human-based, and the
Gondilak Maramon-based. It was kind of a coincidence that both parent
species chose to seed life on the same planet, except it wasn’t that
far-fetched, because there were a finite number of hospitable worlds
available, and humans wanted to live everywhere they possibly could.
The Ochivari were presumably created in the same way as the Orothsew, but on a second
planet that they called Worlon. One of them came to Orolak once, intending
to bring death and destruction to all inhabitants. When Freya and Zek left,
the people they left behind were working on defending Orolak from this
threat. The two of them made it their responsibility to go on the offense,
so while they weren’t happy about the temporal genocide, it would accomplish
what they set out to do, and bonus, they weren’t going to have to do it alone.
The engineer, Carbrey was either massaging his eyes, or trying to pluck them
out with his fingers. He was not being gentle, because this was stressing
him out so much. “Let me get this straight. You want me to build a spaceship
from scratch that can travel at superluminal speeds. We don’t have that on
my Earth.” He was more concerned with the logistics than the ethics, which
was fine because they probably needed a break from the intense debate.
“Well, you won’t have to build it from nothing,” Khuweka clarified. “The
humans in this time period have interstellar ship technology today. They’re
just lacking our speed requirements, which I will procure from The
Shortlist. I just don’t want to take a preexisting ship, because we would
have to steal it.”
“What is the Shortlist?” Limerick asked, interested in it because it sounded
ominous and cool. Freya didn’t know either.
“The Shortlist is a group of incredibly bright and busy women who are
responsible for time travel technology in this universe,” Khuweka explained.
“Most of the galaxy is not allowed to have their technology, because it
would screw things up. If we want the specifications of the reframe engine,
we will have to put in a request to them. Or at least, we might. I’ll
contact the inventor first. She may be able to sign off on it without a full
council meeting.”
“Okay,” Zek said, “who is this inventor, and how do we get in touch with
her?”
“Her name is Hokusai Gimura,” Khuweka revealed.
“Oh, we know her,” Freya realized. “She’s the one trying to protect Orolak
from the Ochivari.”
“Yes,” Khuweka began. “While that won’t happen for another two thousand some
odd years, I believe the Hokusai living on the Earth at the moment has
already experienced that in her personal timeline. I’m not sure, though, so
careful what you say.”
“She’s on Earth right now?” Zek asked.
“Yes,” Khuweka began, “living alone on the beach in a place formerly known
as Dounreay, United Kingdom.”
“She’s alone?” Freya pressed. “Does she want visitors?”
“If she wants us to leave, we’ll leave, and if we have to do that, we’ll try
to reach the Shortlist, and perhaps a younger Madam Gimura will be more
agreeable. For now, Miss Cormanu, could you please teleport us to that
location?”
“Dounreay?”
“Dounreay.”
“I can only take two by two,” Zek explained.
“That’s fine.
They made the trip halfway across the globe, and ended up on the shore of
the North Atlantic Ocean. A little hut had been erected several meters away,
really just large enough for one person; two, if they were fine being close
to each other. Someone was lounging back in a chair on the approximation of
a front porch. They approached, and found her to be Hokusai Gimura, but a
much, much older version of her.
“Madam Gimura,” Khuweka greeted her. “My name is Khuweka Kadrioza. You may
also call me Keynote, if you’d like.”
“Just set it over there,” the old Hokusai said, haphazardly pointing to the
ground beside her.
“Set what over here?”
Hokusai finally turned to look at who she was talking to, tipping her
sunglasses down to get a better view. “Oh, I thought you were a...never
mind. What can I help you with?”
“We were hoping to procure the plans for the reframe engine. I’m sure you
have reserva—” Khuweka interrupted herself when she noticed Hokusai tapping
on her wristband. “Umm...”
A flashcard popped out of the wristband. Hokusai sighed as she removed the
card from its slot, and dropped it into Khuweka’s hand. “There ya go.”
“You don’t wanna know what we’re gonna use it for? I have this whole speech
about necessary evil.”
“I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m tired.”
“We’re sorry to have bothered you,” Freya jumped in.
Now Hokusai perked up. “Madam Einarsson?”
“Miss,” Freya corrected. “Never married.”
“Oh, you’re the other one, that’s right. Anywho, I have a very busy day of
not engineering any inventions. You may stay if it strikes your fancy, but
when the sunglasses go on, the mouth goes off, ya dig?”
Khuweka carefully dropped the flashcard into Carbrey’s hand, like it was
radioactive. “Maybe someday. You take care of yourself, Madam Gimura.”
Hokusai just nodded her head. She must have been through a lot since Freya
last saw her. Time travel will do that to you, and who knew who she lost
along the way? Her wife, Loa was conspicuously missing.
“We’ll be on this planet for the next two years or so,” Freya told her after
the rest of the group had started walking back down the beach, even though
they could teleport from anywhere. “I don’t have a phone number or anything,
though...”
“I won’t need anything,” Hokusai promised. “Thanks for the sentiment.”
Freya just kept watching her with a sad panda face, even as Zektene started
transporting the team back to home base.
“Really, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Just kill those dragonfly
mother fuckers. Kill them all.” So she already knew.
Zek offered to leave Freya there, so she could have a deeper conversation
with Hokusai, but they all knew that wasn’t what Hokusai wanted. They just
went back to where they were, an underground facility in what was once
called Kansas.
They watched as Carbrey inserted the flashcard into the reader, and opened
up the files. It took him a moment to get used to the system. Different
universe, different way to use computers. He picked it up pretty quickly,
and started looking over the data that Hokusai had given them. “Hmm.”
“What?” Khuweka asked.
“No, it’s just...it’s an interesting way to look at faster-than-light
travel. I mean it’s just warp speed, but the math works out a lot easier
this way. Anyone with a second-level higher degree would be able to decipher
this, except...”
“Except what?” Limerick asked.
“I don’t know what this thing is.” Carbrey pointed at the screen.
“Oh, that’s the cylicone,” Khuweka started to explain. “Vital to any time
tech. It’s what makes it work, and why a post-grad has no chance of
stumbling upon the secret.”
“People aren’t allowed to know about this?” Carbrey questioned.
“Time travelers only,” Freya answered.
“For now,” Khuweka added cryptically. “Can you do it? This world has
nanotechnology and ninety-nine automation. All you need to do is make sure
everything runs smoothly. Two years should be no problem, but if we don’t
make that goal, we really will have to go back in time. I don’t want that
seed plate landing on Worlon, and so much as starting to create the
Ochivari.”
Carbrey took in a breath, and looked back at the data. “I don’t know how
your tech works, so there will be a learning curve. I can’t promise two
years just because of that. I’ll go as fast as I can, though.”
“I think you can do it,” Khuweka said confidently. “Like I said, it’s all
automated. Spaceships aren’t run by pilots, or even astronauts. They’re run
by AI, regulated by engineers, like yourself.”
“All right,” Carbrey said. He went back to the computer.
“What are we going to do for the next two years?” Limerick asked as the
group was stepping away to give their engineer some space.
“Hopefully we’ll be discussing this matter further,” Andraste recommended.
“It’s fine he starts working on that thing, but we are nowhere near done
yet.”
Khuweka was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “Very well, Professor
Spellmeyer. Let’s do an exercise called Devil’s Advocate. Professor, since
you’re so adamantly opposed to this idea—”
“That’s not what I’m doing here,” Andraste argued.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Andraste continued. “I just want to make sure
you’ve considered the ramifications of your choices. Ethicists don’t take
sides. We provide facts, or provide ways of determining facts.”
“Well, is anyone actually opposed?” Khuweka opened up the floor. “The
Devil’s Advocate exercise only works when someone wants to do it, and
someone doesn’t, so they can switch places, and argue each other’s
position.” She waited for someone to say something, but everything they had
heard about the Ochivari, and what they had done, had seemed to erase any
true reservations they had. Andraste would probably always be wary—as would
peaceable healer, Landis—even after the mission was over, but that didn’t
mean they weren’t going to go through with it. “Okay,” Khuweka said with an
air of finality. “We will continue to refine our methods, and contemplate
the ethics, but I think it’s time we agree that this is happening, in one
form or another. For now, let me introduce you to this fun little game I
found out about called RPS-1o1 Plus.”
No comments :
Post a Comment