Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (38 page)

“Yes, Private Floathawg, you have a question?” Ia asked.

“Captain, yes, sir,” he stated, rising from his seat. Tall and lean, he overshadowed his shorter, mousy teammate, Private Second Class Mara Sunrise, who stayed in her seat, looking bored with the proceedings. Both of them were supposed to be on the current watch, but neither had a task at the moment that was absolutely necessary to keep monitored during this hour. “What exactly are these timestreams?”

“My gifts act in a visual way…though visualization might be a better word for it,” Ia told him. “Since my abilities came to full strength at the age of fifteen, this visualization starts out as a giant prairie crisscrossed by streams. Each stream represents a single person’s life. Where the stream splits, a choice has been made, and each new part of the stream indicates what will happen if each choice is followed.

“From the banks of that stream, I can see images inside the waters of snippets of time from that particular person’s life. If I go upstream, I go into that person’s past. If I go downstream, I go into their future. And if I were to step into those waters, I would be living that person’s life at the moment in time where I entered, as if it was a point-of-view hologram, with sight, sound, touch, taste, smell…and even some access to their uppermost surface thoughts, but with zero interaction with the actual person,” Ia said. “In that regard, it is more like a standard, noninteractive vidshow broadcast than anything else.

“Now, I
can
change the visualization images,” she added, as Harley’s fellow crewmates glanced uneasily at each other. “I’ve used graphs, grids, plus other metaphors such as tapestries and so forth, but it always starts out as the timeplains, and I myself always start out in my own life-stream…as does anyone who comes with me. I have also learned to lift that person out of their own waters quickly upon entry so they don’t
metaphorically drown from trying to process too much doubled-up information at once.”

Another hand rose. Ia pointed at its owner, Private Second Class Nadja Theam, a clairvoyant and fellow psi, and a very good electronics programmer and engineer. Floathawg sat down, his question answered, and Theam stood in his place. “Sir, I’ve been given to understand you’re both a precognitive and an electrokinetic. In fact, word is among the crew, you can program literally with a thought. Why don’t you just
show
us these timestream images by using the monitors in here, while you’re searching for them wherever it is they exist?”

“I wish I could do that, Private Theam,” Ia allowed. She shook her head. “Unfortunately, while my years of effort at disciplining my electrokinetic gift make it possible for me to transcribe simple things like written orders, programming code, and the like, it isn’t the electrokinesis that’s the problem. My precognition is too powerful. The handful of times where I have tried directly to record the images that I see inside my mind when I’m standing in the timestreams themselves, I have fried every datapad and workstation console I have touched…just as I have destroyed every KI monitor within range of my abilities, which is why we don’t have any on board this ship.

“I can skim the timeplains from this side and pull through what I need, but it is always throttled down and filtered,” she explained. “In short, you can fill a cup of water successfully from the sink tap, when that tap is fed by the waters of a dam far upstream, but you cannot expect to fill it nearly as safely by dropping the sluice gates of that dam while you’re standing on its spillway. Any other questions?”

PFC Belle Underwood had one. She stood as well, her stance At Attention, but her tone hesitant. “Um…will it hurt, sir? Going onto the timeplains or whatever?”

“Only if you let go of my hand, or say the word ‘time’ repeatedly while we are there.” Her reply earned Ia several chuckles. “Laugh all you want, meioas; I am serious. For those who don’t want to experience the timestreams but are still doubtful or curious about the necessity of the coming attack, I
have
carefully considered all of the choice-possibilities in this and other endeavors, and have concluded that attacking these crèches—repugnant as that is to our Human sensibilities—will
save far more lives down the road than it will cost.
Every
action I undertake, past, present, and future, is designed with that goal firmly in mind.

“Now, if you are curious, please feel free to move forward and line up. If you do not wish to have your temporal questions answered at this time—and yes, Corporal Johnson, you may ask to see
other
events, though I may or may not comply at my precognitive prerogative—then you may remain in your seats or consider yourselves dismissed.

“Those of you on duty who are watching this meeting will have to hold your questions for the next temporal opportunity. Those who stay here in the boardroom but do not participate will have the opportunity to chat with those who do take a dip in the timestreams today,” Ia concluded. “You are now free to move as you will, meioas. Thank you for your attention.”

A few got up and left. A few more hesitated, then moved to the front of the hall. Doctor Mishka spoke up before any of them reached Ia.

“Why didn’t you offer us this opportunity any earlier, Captain?” Mishka asked her. The blonde woman remained in her seat at the table, her expression skeptical. “Why now? And why not have all of us take a stroll through these timestreams with you?”

“Because—ironic as my adult life is—I believe in free will, Doctor,” Ia replied, twisting slightly to look at the older woman. “Those who follow me onto the timeplains tend to see things that shift their perception of the universe. Not through anything I myself do to them but simply because once you have seen something, it cannot be unseen. Every experience changes us, and if the experience is a powerful one, it has the potential to change us in equally powerful ways. Sometimes I have to take people into the streams with me so that they can see the consequences of actions, whether it’s theirs, mine, or others’…but I prefer it when it’s their own idea.

“This is also why I prefer not to be touched,” Ia added, looking at the others approaching her. “My gifts can and will trigger on their own, particularly when I am startled, or my guard is down. And like most psychic abilities, they are strongest when transferred via physical contact. I prefer to do that under controlled circumstances, and only when that person’s
foreknowledge will not harm the actions that must take place—if any of you change your minds at the last second, meioas, I will not take offense. If you haven’t, we’ll do this one at a time.”

“
I
want to know what your end-goal is, sir.” Private Kimberly Kim, lead team member of 1st Platoon B Gamma and full-mech specialist, halted in front of Ia. Shorter than her captain, she looked up at Ia with the level gaze of a woman who considered herself an equal. “Why you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing, and why you’ve involved the rest of us in it. I know you already said you’re in this to prevent bad stuff from happening down the road, but that’s what I want to see for myself.”

“You see
that
, and if you have a single scrap of compassion within you for the other beings in this universe, it’ll change you forever, Private,” Ia warned her. She lifted her hand, offering it palm up to the other woman. “But if you do want to see it, I’ll show it to you.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Kim stated, and gripped Ia’s fingers.

Sighing, Ia complied, taking the shorter woman into her gifts. Between one breath and the next, she pulled the two of them out of their life-streams and onto the banks. Waiting just enough for Kim to get her bearings, she accelerated them downstream, into the desert waiting for their descendants, and the one trickle of a chance at stopping that lifeless desiccation.

“This is what will happen to all life in the Milky Way Galaxy. Starting three centuries from now, an invasion force will start stripping every planet and every star for raw materials. It will take them less than two centuries to do it…and
this
chain of events is the one chance we—ourselves and our descendants—will have at stopping them.”

MARCH 3, 2496 T.S.

NEARSPACE, BEAUTIFUL-BLUE
GATSUGI MOTHERWORLD, SUGAI SYSTEM

The Gatsugi that appeared on Ia’s main screen was four-armed, mouse-eyed, blue-green-skinned, and boasted butter yellow tufts on his head, strands which were more akin to the long, individual barbs on a peacock-feather shaft than anything resembling Human hair. He smiled by curving up the edges of his small mouth—a gesture Gatsugi and Humans had in common—and said, “Greetings/Salutations/Hello. You have reached/contacted/I am the Sugai Insystem Comptroller. How may I help/assist/aid you?”

“Greetings/Hello, Comptroller,” Ia returned politely. “This
is/I am Captain Ia of the Terran Space Force requesting/asking/seeking permission to enter Gatsugi homespace/territory/system-heart.”

The alien’s race had evolved on a world with predators sporting extremely sensitive hearing, though poor vision, and had developed multiple methods of communication. They talked more than they gestured or colorchanged now, but the layers of meaning had merely morphed into multiple-word use. Some sentients found it annoying; Ia thought it was elegant. Not something she’d use herself every day, but elegant in its own way.

The Comptroller dipped his head. “What is the name/identity, need/purpose for visiting, and location/point of entry for your ship/vessel, Captain Ee-ah?”

“The TUPSF
Hellfire
is a new/experimental Harasser-Class warship,” Ia stated, pronouncing the acronym
tup-siff
. “We are approaching/entering Sugai System from your vector 117 by 3. We request/request/request that you clear/evacuate Beautiful-Blue nearspace sectors 1008, 908, 807 through 809, and 705 through 712 of all vessels within the next ten
klitak
Gatsugi Standard, and request/request/request you prepare to elevate/accelerate all system defenses/warnings from Peach to Sanguine in ten
klitak
. Our purpose/intent/reason for entering/arriving is to assist/aid/help in defending/protecting your system/sovereignty from inbound/advancing enemies/enemies/enemies in less than fifteen
klitak
.”

Most of the time, Gatsugi conversations circled around a subject, approaching it from multiple angles. Sometimes, they repeated a particular word for emphasis. Hearing that emphasis, the Comptroller widened his mouse black eyes, skin flushing from blue-green to a reddish peach in just a few seconds. “What/What/What enemies?”

“Salik,” Ia stated. The name needed no emphasis. “You have just over fourteen
klitak
to the Second Salik War, Comptroller, and the Terran government has sent/allowed me to help/assist in the protection/defense of your Motherworld. Do we/Does this ship/military force have/receive your permission/clearance to enter/approach Beautiful-Blue nearspace and assist/defend your Motherworld/heart?”

“Is this true/true/true?” the Comptroller asked, flushing a skeptical shade of muddy orange.

“I do not lie to you, meioa,” Ia stated flatly. “If you do/will
not believe me, cooperating/accepting my request/warning anyway/regardless will not/will not cause/create inconvenience/trouble for more than twenty
klitak
. Just/please clear/evacuate sectors 1008, 908, 807–809 and 705–712 immediately/now, and do not use lightwave communications/channels. They are parked/sitting/watching at system’s edge/farspace right/for now, watching/scanning/spying on you.”

The Comptroller wasted a
klitak
in thought, somewhat longer than a Terran Standard minute. Finally, his lower arms moved, touching controls below the edge of the vid pickups for their comm link. “We will comply/trust you/the Terrans. Clearing/Evacuating the indicated/listed sectors/spaces now. What is your estimated time/moment of insystem/nearspace arrival/appearance?

“Fourteen
klikat
from…now.” Ia stated, checking the timestreams. Speaking with the politeness of using Gatsugi thought patterns was starting to give her a headache.

The Comptroller flushed reddish peach. “Your arrival/entry will be after/following the Salik. Why/Why/Why not before?”

“If you move/get those ships out of my way/the indicated sectors,” Ia promised the alien, “they/the enemy won’t have reason/need to deviate/reposition, and I can enter the system/nearspace at the heart/center of their formation/fleet.”

“How/How/How can you know/assert something/this information/knowledge so precisely/accurately?” the Gatsugi challenged her, skin shifting more toward a doubtful, dull red. “Either you collude/cooperate with the invasion/Salik, a reprehensible/unthinkable/vomitous thought/idea, or you have a spy/traitor among/spying upon them.”

“When this/the battle is over/done, Comptroller, and you have a moment/energy to spare, look up/access the V’Dan belief/faith Sh’nai records/histories/mentions of ‘The Prophet of a Thousand Years,’” Ia instructed him. “I am/am she/the Prophet who was foretold/prophesied. And, as foretold/prophesied, I will aid/assist/help save you, today.
Hellfire
out/ending transmission.”

Within seconds, Private C’ulosc spoke up from his seat at the comm station. “Sir, we’re getting a ping from the Sugai Comptroller’s office.”

“Send a signal stating that we’re entering FTL transit, and cut the pingback,” Ia directed him. “Then make sure Chief
Yeoman O’Keefe has all members of Lieutenant Spyder’s boarding party on board Bow Shuttle One, locked and loaded.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain, are we actually going to come out in the
middle
of the enemy?” Yeoman Ishiomi asked her. His console was now a backup gunnery post to Private Ramasa, along with Lieutenant Rico, who faced backwards. “That’s extremely dangerous, sir. Even just traveling in formation as a fleet will be risky for the Salik if they want to arrive closely enough to each other to concentrate their initial fire.”