Operations Center, Western Research Hub
Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge
4453.2.26 Interstellar
Janus crossed his arms and said, “Let me get this straight. Nikandros doesn’t care if we win the Trials. He only needs access to the Eastern Labs because there’s something there that you can’t talk to us about, which would tilt the Consensus in the exceptionalists’ favor.”
“On a narrow range of issues, yes,” Ryler said. “Probably not enough to save Irkalla as a whole, but enough to preserve a sample of us for study.”
“Like animals,” Janus spat.
“You put animals in cages all the time, Janus,” Ryler said gently. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing this past year?”
Janus was about to say it wasn’t the same, but he stopped himself short. What made it different? That he was smarter than the specimens he’d studied in the Motragi labs? Or that he was doing it for the benefit of humanity? Even as an outsider to the Cult, he could see how those words would be used against him.
“I know you don’t like politics, Janus, but you have to understand,” Ryler said, “my faction has been fighting this battle for a long time. Centuries. It’s about more than Irkalla. It’s about every human in Survivor’s Refuge’s right to rise above their birth and become something more.”
“Aspirants for the Cult?”
“For all of us,” Ryler said. “We don’t want to put you on ice like the compartmentalists. We want you to lead!”
They’d gone around this particular track twice already, and Janus couldn’t fault it in the particulars. It was only that Nikandros’s plan involved sacrificing their people to achieve his ends. “I suppose your parents will be part of the evacuation.”
“I hope they will,” Ryler said carefully. “Would you save a hundred strangers if it meant leaving Callie behind to die?”
“What about what you found in the data banks,” Koni asked, saving Janus from having to answer. “What was stored here?”
“A failed project,” Ryler said. “Dr. Jahangir hoped that studying the aberrations would lead to a cure, but the fields’ effects were too erratic.”
“Do we know what causes them?” Janus asked, mostly curious and buying himself time to think.
“No one does,” Ryler said. “They pre-date human presence on Krandermore and are most likely responsible for the presence of life here.”
“You make it sound like they’re artificial,” Janus said.
Ryler shrugged. “We just don’t know.”
“What else?” Koni asked. “You spent nearly an hour hooked into that machine.”
Ryler nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead, something he’d explained was a side-effect of using his implants at full capacity. “It’s mostly her musings and frustrations, endless cataloging of new lifeforms, and failed attempts to produce a cure. There are also fleet records that date back before First Landing, including the origin of your people,” he told Koni. “I thought that would be of interest to you, so I downloaded it.” He pulled a memory chip from his pocket and offered it to Koni.
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She hesitated. “You already told us the clans were made up of people from different departments on the old ships.”
“Not the Verazlans,” Ryler said, still holding the chip out. “I knew your history after First Landing. I didn’t realize the name Verazlan was already important before we arrived in this system.”
Koni looked at Janus, and he understood her dilemma. To take that chip would be to accept that all the stories she’d heard as a child were wrong, that her history was a lie, and that her people had become less than they were. “You should take it,” Janus said. “It’s data and history. You choose what meaning you want to draw from it.”
Koni nodded and took the chip, passing it over her wrist comm to make the transfer.
Janus turned his attention back to Ryler. “Let’s finish up.”
Ryler nodded and started twisting and pulling the plugs from his chest. “Will you take me to the Eastern Labs?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Janus said. “In the meantime, you can continue to provide basic reports to Nikandros so he can support us, but nothing you’ve downloaded today.”
“I’ll eventually be returned to his service, Janus.”
“I may have you delete the files before then,” Janus said, and Ryler stiffened. He was, after all, a Cult librarian, a position Janus now understood meant his function was to collate and analyze data, providing it to the Consensus for their consumption and decisions. “Strength through struggle, Ryler.”
Ryler leaned his head back against the headrest and pulled the last plug. “Strength through struggle, Emissary.”
Janus nodded. He’d have to keep an eye on Ryler, but it was the beginning of something more honest between them, even if it meant Janus had to use Ryler’s beliefs to keep him under control.
Even if it meant Janus had to agree with some of them.
He turned to see if Koni was ready and saw that she was crying. She wasn’t sobbing—Koni stood straight and tall, with a smile on her face as her eyes glowed blue and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“What is it?” he asked, touching her shoulder.
She looked at him, still smiling, and said, “Verazlan. It’s not a family name at all, or at least it wasn’t in the time of the Splinter Fleet. It was the name of a ship.” Whatever she’d found out, it seemed to have strengthened her rather than contradicting all she knew.
“I look forward to hearing about it, Koni Atl-Verazlan. Now, come on. Let’s find the others and get out of here. We’ve got a race to win.”
***
Janus, Mick, Lira, Koni, Ryler, and Fury waited for the outer lock to cycle with all their gear packed, including the replacement items they’d grabbed from the mission equipment vault. By necessity, the entry and decontamination protocols for this facility had been rather involved, and the vehicle bay had been designed to be fully automated, accepting deliveries without compromising the rest of the research hub.
“You going to be all right, Abraxxis?” Mick asked. “You look a bit wrung out.”
“I’ll be fine, Mick,” Ryler said sarcastically, pulling the canteen from his belt. “Thanks for your concern.”
“Just being friendly, mate,” Mick said, looking at Janus. “Now that we’re all friends.”
Janus nodded. “We’ve reached an understanding.”
“Mick’s just excited he gets to be a real duster again,” Lira said with a smirk.
“Let me stop you right there, Allencourt,” Mick said as the outer lock opened. “I never stopped.”
To a sun-sider, the vehicle bay might have seemed strange, but it was a sight for sore eyes for the four Irkallans. Parked in neat rows were crawlers, cycles, and buggies designed to function in the near-vacuum of coldside. The style was a little different, but these were clearly precursors to the vehicles Irkallans used today.
Janus patted Mick on the back. “I want full function checks on all four buggies before we leave. Don’t believe the readouts.”
“You got it, boss,” Mick said. “Come on, Abraxxis!” Ryler and Koni followed Mick out of the airlock.
Lira stopped Janus. “Hey.”
“What’s up?” Janus said, speaking quietly.
“This new thing of accepting to be an emissary. Have you considered that might be exactly what Ryler and Nikandros want?”
Janus sucked at his teeth. “I have. I just don’t have a better plan. Think about it?”
“I will,” Lira said. “And I’m taking point on the first leg. We need to make up for lost time.”
“Sure thing,” Janus said, “But hey, try not to wreck this one, all right?”
Lira flipped him the middle finger, and Janus laughed. For once, since the beginning of his life as an aspirant, he felt like he could see all the pieces, and he knew the rules of the game. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but screw Nikandros and settling for saving a “sample” of his people. They were going to finish the Trials, and they were going to win.