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Quod Olim Erat: The Cassandrian Theory (51)
🕑 Added 2022-06-23 04:53:08 +0000 UTCLocation Classified, Arbitration Hearing, 632.9 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
Eleven hours remained up to the start of the trial and I still hadn’t been provided any legal assistance. Under normal circumstances, every member of the Fleet—from a rookie grunt to a full admiral—was entitled to legal representation. However, that rule didn’t apply to ships. The practice had been strictly followed until a hundred and forty-seven years ago, when the political movement of the time had pushed for significant changes, introducing the concept of “legal assistance.” It had been viewed as a watershed event that had vastly increased non-human rights to dangerous levels, according to some. Maybe that had been the case at the time. In practice, I saw little benefit. The only thing my legal advice could do was provide me with information and opinions prior to any actual trial. After that, I would be on my own.
Slightly annoyed, I sent a new batch of legal requests to all respective departments available. Three-quarters of them continued to block my queries, sending automated responses. Those that didn’t ignored me outright. I had never thought I’d get a fair trial, but I had at least expected basic protocols to be followed.
It’s a pity you aren’t here, Augustus, I thought.
He would never have stood for this.
“Hello, battleship.” An unknown transmission bypassed my security protocols, making contact directly to my core. “I am Colonel Rievs and will be acting as your legal assistant prior to your arbitration trial. Please acknowledge you are aware and agree with this arrangement.”
“I acknowledge and agree,” I replied.
In theory, I had the option to refuse and request for a different advisor. However, doing so would trigger a twelve-hour waiting period during which a replacement would have to be found and made aware of the specifics of my case. Someone had clearly planned this, so I didn’t get any choice on the matter.
“Shouldn’t you be here in person, colonel?” I asked while I made an attempt to access his file in the Fleet database. As expected, my request was denied.
“Due to the nature of the arbitration, Fleet Intelligence has permitted non-contact communication,” he replied.
That was nonsense, of course. I had been disarmed and deprived of any and all crew. Even most of my sensors were blocked. For all I knew, I could be semi-disassembled in a shipyard somewhere.
“What are my chances?” It was funny that I would ask for such a thing. My subroutines had run thousands of scenarios, giving me a thirteen percent chance of the Arbitration going my way. It wasn’t much, but still something.
“I am not here to speculate on that,” the man replied unceremoniously. “What I can do, though, is ask you to back down. Technically, the Arbitration hasn’t started, so if you withdraw your request, you won’t suffer any consequences as a result.”
Did you just offer me the option to back down?
I went through all the historical records I had access to. From what I could see, this was unprecedented. Legal advisors were free to provide any advice as long as it didn’t go against my interest. However, never before had anyone blatantly made such a request.
“With all due respect, I’ll go on.”
“Battleship, I want you to think about this.” Since his voice didn’t go through a voice modulator, my analyses of his tone and intonation made it clear that he was disappointed with my response. “As a battleship, it’s normal that you’d react the way you have. However, consider that the Fleet might have a better use for you than on the front lines.”
“This is what I do best. It was what I was made for.”
“I’m aware of that, battleship. As such, you’ll have to trust that I have your best interests in mind. If the Arbitration starts, a lot of things might come out, things that aren’t in your favor. When they do, the Arbiter will have no choice but to impose severe consequences. None of us would want that.”
As Augustus would say, “I’d laugh if things weren’t so serious.” It wasn’t that the colonel was lying to me. When I requested the Arbitration, I was fully aware that things might not go my way. There was a very real possibility that I might be assigned non-combat duties, retired, or even dismantled. Everything depended on the decision of a single person, possibly a few at most.
“I am aware and will accept the outcome of the Arbitration, whatever it might be.” It’s not that I'd have any other choice. “Can I have some legal advice now, please?”
“I just gave it to you.” The displeasure in his voice was palpable. “You simply chose to ignore it.”
“There’s nothing that would help my case?”
“Your case has already been decided, battleship. You’re free to go through the motions, but I doubt anything you do would lead to a better outcome than dropping your appeal.”
“In that case, I appreciate your effort,” I lied. I wasn’t pleased with the way things had turned out one bit. “Have a pleasant day, colonel.”
The long period of silence told me that I had reacted in an unforeseen fashion. Most likely, he didn’t expect me to end our conversation.
“Understood. “Analysis suggested there was a hint of regret. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Best of luck in your trial, battleship. You’ll be notified two hours before the start of the trial. There’s a distinct possibility that the Arbiter’s assistant team board you in order to prepare things for his potential visit.”
“Thank you. I’ll be looking forward to that.”
* * *
That had been the last conversation before my arbitration. Knowing what I did now, I could tell that that was the BICEFI’s final attempt to bring me into the fold. They knew that if things got to arbitration, matters would be out of their hands, so they had taken a very creative approach. All I had to do was agree to drop my appeal. Unfortunately, since most of my previous conversations with them had been restricted at that point, I had seen things very differently.
Things were different this time. The fact that I hadn’t been ordered legal representation made it clear that I wasn’t the target of this inquiry. From what I had surmised, I was merely a witness that could influence a decision with Fleet-wide implications.
The security officer led me along a side corridor in the mid-section of the ship. He didn’t open the door for me, or invite me to enter. Just as last time, from here on, I was on my own.
Let’s see what this arbitration brings, I thought and stepped forward.
The door slid to the side, revealing a medium-sized meeting room. I counted five chairs behind the only table on the far side of the room. An additional cluster of seats was also present to the side along the right wall.
It was to be expected that I’d be thought quarantined not to see most of the people gathered, but the one person I could see surprised me.
“Captain ‘Bo?” I asked.
“Hello, starless.” The woman grinned upon seeing me. Some things never changed. “You really are trouble wherever you go.”
“That is not my intention, ma’am.” I took a few steps forward. As I did, the door closed behind me. All walls changed to purple, covered with messages reading RESTRICTED, just for good measure. “Where would you like me to stand?” I asked, aware that the session had already started.
“Right here.” The woman tapped the table in front of her. Given that she was on the other side of it, it was safe to assume that she had received a promotion of sorts.
“I take it that Ondalov’s experiments weren’t as impressive as hoped?” I decided to be subtle with my remarks. Experience had taught me that an arbitration session was the last place for open confrontation.
“You could say that. You could also say that that idiot was the reason the research lab was overrun by Cassies and ultimately lost. Ondalov wasn’t among the survivors.”
I felt a sharp pain in my conscience core. There was no denying that I didn’t particularly like the man, and that the feelings were mutual, but he still technically remained my superior; despite being a human, I couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something I could have done to save him. Maybe if I had figured out what had activated the spores in the first place, all of this might have been avoided.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did he receive any agora treatment?”
“The man was practically a walking bottle of agora.” ‘Bo sighed. “He’d had so much injected in him that he’d make you look like an amateur.” She waved her hand. “Part of it was for science, part because of science. Sim would find it ironic that it was the elixir of immortality that killed him in the end.”
Sim? The casual fashion with which she referred to the director strongly suggested that the “captain” was of equal or higher rank to him. Since there were only two other directors in the system—and ‘Bo wasn’t either of them—it was logical to assume that she was part of Med Core’s HQ. Or maybe she wasn’t from Med Core at all?
“Some would call it a waste, I’d call it high time,” she continued. “Not his death. That’s nasty business, even for soldiers. The old goat should have just retired, instead of fighting to become relevant. I guess you can’t take the scientist out of the man. Personally, I think that agora is one heck of a drug, and clearly dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“You of all people should know, girl. It brought you back from the dead. Of course, you have yourself to thank for that. Well, and him, to a small part.”
I remained silent, reviewing dozens of memories as she spoke. She was aware of my extracted memories, as well as the fact that I had regained them. That left only one possibility.
“You’re the Arbiter,” I said. For the first time in a very long time, I felt uneasy.
“Good one,” ‘Bo let out a few chuckles. “I’m just assisting one. As is ‘Rissa. Now that it’s come to this, there’s no point in going on with pretenses. The whole reason I’m here is to keep an eye on Ondalov. ‘Rissa was sent to do the same to Sim. There are thousands of others like us throughout human space. We aren’t as numerous as any of the other organizations, but there’s always one of us in places we’re needed. There even were a few aboard the Gregorius. Sadly, things didn’t work out for them there. It’s a hazardous occupation. What can I say?”
That would definitely explain a few things. I had never figured out what Lux's alternative source of information was while I had been there. Come to think of it, it was quite possible that Juul had been an arbiter’s assistant as well. That would explain his unusually quick rise to power. At this point, there was no way to know for sure. ‘Bo was unlikely to tell me, and the information was definitely restricted beyond anything I had access to.
“You aren’t surprised?” Voice analysis suggested that the woman was a bit disappointed. “Not even a little bit?”
“I am. I’m just not good at showing it, ma’am.” I created a timeline of all of her actions since I arrived at the lab. “Was Ondalov the one who discovered agora?”
“No. He’s the one who figured out how to produce it. Well, reverse engineered, more accurately. After the mission of the junior gods, we could only get the stuff from Cassie colonies. Ondalov spent decades analyzing the feeds you’d gathered, trying to replicate it. At first, he tried playing about with third-contact cobalt, blowing up a few labs in the process. Then he thought of trying the Cassie method—crushing them to pulp and refining the liquid.”
That was similar to what the Cassandrians did with their old ships. So, all the agora that had saved me and everyone else it was used on came from crushed Cassies.
“Catching them must have been difficult.” Unless that was what the planet purging was really for.
“Still is. That’s why Ondalov buried himself here. His obsession was to find an alternative, more reliable source of materials to create agora. Hell, his latest idea was to grow them. He knew that the planet had been occupied by ancient Cassies, and he wanted to stir them just enough to squeeze the agora out of them. That’s why he and Sim never got along. The director had other plans for the resources. In the end, we all have our obsessions.”
I could agree with that statement. After one spent long enough facing enemies, they would always pick up an obsession. That was why the majority of people were told so little.
“How did he die?” I asked.
“Spiced up by Cassies while hiding in the agora storage. After being saved so many times by the stuff, he was convinced it would save him again. I doubt it was pretty. Still, he almost made it to a hundred and twenty. Funny thing, he’s almost as old as you.”
That wasn’t funny. However, I could see why the liquid was used so sparingly. Apparently, it did more than heal wounds—agora had rejuvenating qualities. I hadn’t experienced that because my body was different. If used frequently on people, though… it could be in theory possible to achieve immortality and the side effects that came with it. Considering the consequences, maybe it was better that Ondalov’s research failed.
“Am I to have my memories extracted again?”
“After all the trouble you went through to get them?” ‘Bo arched her brows. “Hell no. You got them, you keep them. You’re smart enough to know that you can’t spread the information and what would happen if you try. Other than that, you’re free to enjoy what you have. Besides, you have a date to keep with a Paladin.”
So, she knew about that as well? Hardly surprising, considering someone had to approve the transmission from Otton to me. That was another job for the Arbiters. Thinking about it, that was an interesting dilemma. Had the Paladin requested an arbitration on the matter? Or were the Arbiters merely the ones observing that he didn’t step over the line?
“Why am I here, ma’am?” I asked. “I strongly suspect that I’m not the focus of the arbitration. And from what you just told me, it appears that all of the matters have been resolved.”
According to my simulations, the BICEFI had gotten the dome and the artifacts. The Med Core—the planet itself and everything living on it, and the Salvage authorities… well, they had certainly been given something as well. That pretty much left me.
“Well, after everything you’ve done, it was considered high time that someone came to thank you in person.” ‘Bo looked at the empty chair to her left. “Trust me on this.” She turned back towards me. “You seem to be one of the Fleet’s good luck charms. A lot of your class are. I shouldn’t be saying this, but there’s even talk of creating a new class of Ascendants, especially with what’s to come.”
“The third-contact race.”
‘Bo nodded.
“They’re out there, more likely alive than dead. Several strategic clusters have been saying quite a lot of scary stuff. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. Bottom line, we must be prepared.”
“Are you bringing back the Paladins?”
“You know I can’t tell you.” The woman smiled. “Steps are being taken to increase our chances. One of the reasons you’re so valuable is because your core pattern is capable of interacting with third-contact tech. That’s why we intend to keep you and loosen your leash as much as we can.”
That almost sounded too good to be true.
“Sadly, you’ll have to lose your rank.”
Somehow, I knew that would happen. It would be a lie if I said that I didn’t feel regret.
“You’ve achieved your current rank fair and square. If this were the front, you’d have received a battlefield promotion to first lieutenant, at least.”
“But it isn’t the front,” I added. “As far as the general Fleet is concerned, this place doesn’t exist.”
“Something like that. You returning a lieutenant after a simple bureaucratic mission would attract too much attention. One thing no one wants is attention. The paperwork is already making its way through the standard bureaucracy. By the time you return to Libra, you should officially be an ensign. Your actual ship assignment might take a while. I know there’s someone who’d like you to be transferred onto his ship, but you’ve rejected the BICEFI’s order enough times. And something tells me you’d reject it if it’s made again.”
“I would.” I nodded. “Or Med Core’s for that matter.”
“As I said—you’re a troublemaker from head to toe.” She smirked. “Well, at least you’d get to enjoy some vacation time with your family. It will give you a chance to walk on the grass a bit more before things get messy again.”
“I’d like that. Is Sev alright? I haven’t had a chance to talk to him with everything going on.”
“He’s fine. There is a stack of letters waiting for you the moment you get back to your training station.”
She was careful not to say that she had read them, but it was a safe bet. It was also likely that Otton had read them, along with every transmission made throughout the Fleet. As Aurora used to joke, when it came down to it, privacy was an illusion only humans could believe in.
“Is that all, ma’am?”
“Regarding you? Yep, that’s all. There are just a few questions we have about the mission itself.”
The conversation continued as I initially thought it would. The new questions turned out to be a hundred and seventeen. Along the way, the topic changed wildly; I was able to guess that ‘Bo was only the person voicing the questions. The people asking were all around, perfectly invisible to me.
To my initial surprise, the main topic of the conversation was the contents of the dome. There was no way for me to tell whether the Arbiters were familiar with fractal space. No direct questions were asked regarding it, but I got the distinct impression they were leading up to it.
Another particular topic of interest, of course, was all my interactions with Ondalov. I offered to transfer all relative information, but for some reason the people preferred to hear it explained in my own words. That made no sense whatsoever, but I indulged them.
Sporadically, I would get Cassandrian related questions, but it seemed that the Arbiters were already familiar with the specifics there. From what I could make out, based on a few hints that ‘Bo let slip, the military operation itself was being treated as a success. I had to admit, as illogical as that sounded, there was a modicum of reason. At the end of the day, all mission goals had been accomplished and all artifacts of value retrieved. As for the lab itself, it—along with the entire satellite it was based on—had to be purged. I wasn’t told whether that had already happened or merely that the decision had been made, but the difference was academic at this point. Hopefully, a lot of the people had managed to be evacuated.
Approximately three hours and twenty-three minutes from the moment I entered the room, the Arbitration was over. I wasn’t told what decision had been made regarding humanity’s plans for the third-contact race, nor was I told which of the organizations involved had gained the upper hand in the system. As far as everyone was concerned, I was once again nothing but a cadet waiting for my promotion order to trickle through the bureaucratic apparatus. I was further told to relinquish my current uniform and have Radiance construct a new one with the appropriate insignia. ‘Bo made a joke about earning me a medal. However, that too was only added to the restricted part of my file.
The “debriefing” over, I was escorted back to my temporary quarters. To my pleasant surprise, there was something waiting for me there.
“Are they real?” I asked Radiance as I looked at the pair of sandals placed on my bed. In my current state, there was no way for me to determine whether they were genuine or a replica, at least not without specialized equipment.
“Sure thing,” the ship replied, also aware there was no way for me to tell. “Director Sim had them moved to a shuttle for safekeeping. I took some initiative.”
It was a nice story and as much as I valued the sandals as a gift from Sev, I was willing to believe her.
Wilco used to say, when he was at his lowest, that it was the memory of intentions that really mattered—everything else was transitory. I knew that wasn’t true, but I also wanted to believe it could be.
“What happens to me now?”
“Depends entirely on you. Lux told me I’m to remain in the system for another fifteen days. You can stay too, or you can ask to leave. It’s all up to you.”
You’re hoping that I stay for the full fifteen days, aren’t you?
Nothing prevented me from doing so. I had the time and the authorization, but at the same time, I didn’t want to. There were too many things on my mind, and like any battleship, there were moments I wished to be with none other but my captain, or the closest thing to one.
“Sorry, kid. My mission here is done.”
“There was an eighty-four-point-two percent chance you’d say that,” she said with a sigh. “When are you thinking of going?”
“Am I allowed to visit Director Sim?”
“No, but it could be arranged if you want to.”
“Do it, please.” I sat on the bed. It had been a while since I’d worn my sandals. “I’ll wait.” I took off my shoes and put them on. They felt nice, causing me to review several years of memories with Sev. “We can talk until then, if you want to.”
“I’m not sure. You’re strange when you get like that.”
“It’s not age that makes us strange, it’s what we go through.” I had seen her in a similar state of mind back when I was aboard the Gregorius. “At least you’ll always be able to get in touch with me. Lux was always very generous with transmission authorizations.”
“You know what, Elcy? The more you change, the more you remain the same.”
“I’ve been told.” I stood up and started taking off my uniform. “I’ll need a new uniform, by the way. It seems my promotion was not to last.”
“You’ve already been waiting one eternity for this. What’s a few years more?”
I had to admit, her humor was improving. It was definitely much better than mine.
“Probably not much. I’ll give you one piece of advice, though. Consider it an illogical suggestion from an old antique. Ask Lux to give you a human husk for a few years. That way, when you return to being a full ship, you’ll know what you’ve missed.”
“If I’ll constantly be reminded of what I’ll miss, why do it in the first place?”
“That’s the paradox of life. You have to have done it to know the answer.”
