BOOK ONE – Subjugation
Chapter 1: Emergence
“Emergence in one decalon, 63, 62, 61 . . .” The mother-computer’s machine-voice began its drone. Lighting levels dimmed as all non-essential systems dropped off line to reduce power use. The ship prepared to emerge from the sacred Worm-hole it was traveling in. Like a chrysalis from a cocoon, it began to shudder as if in anticipation of its exit. The resistance forces to the sacred Act of Emergence building up as it moved to the edge of the hole.
The bubble-eyed creature surveyed the flashing lights on the overhead wall panel. Its helmeted head appeared too large for the lithe form beneath it. Moving from the worm-jump indicator panel to a contoured chair, it efficiently began to “mesh-in” after first hooking its breathing tube securely into place. The numerous straps of the chair pulled a firm mesh around its bipedal body and prevented injury in the event of an accident. And “Emergence is fraught with accidents”, it thought. A motto among the crew.
It pulled its control console into place on its lap. Around it, other identical figures of the Swarm were strapping into other identical chairs. It watched its own movements mirrored tens of times at the surrounding consoles. The other large-headed, bubble-eyed shapes moved about efficiently preparing the ship to emerge. The silver bodysuits they all wore were the standard uniform on the bridge. Only a few red or blue suits passed among them. Proudly, it thought of how these same movements were being duplicated throughout the Flight; thousands of times in the hundreds of identical ships surrounding this one. “A Flight is magnificent in its splendor”, it intoned under its breath. It took comfort in the Words of Doctrine. The Words settled frayed nerves.
Looking up at a three-dimensional screen over its head, it stared at the hundreds of little lights that showed against a black background. Each light represented a ship in the Flight. “A Flight is the sum of its ships,” it quoted to itself, half-aloud. All linked together in the computers, sister to sister, to this one mother-computer so that emergence for all was instantaneous. To do otherwise would scatter the Flight across parsecs of empty space. Dust motes in the interstellar winds, they’d never be able to regroup. Its job was to prevent this from happening.
“I am Jump-controller for the whole Flight”, it repeated for the hundredth time, smugly satisfied. It was a great honor to be so chosen. Much Khree was gathered. The Ship-Mother, too, gained much Khree among the flight by having this responsibility given to one of her daughters. This would aid both her and her ship in their standing in the hierarchy of the Flight. As a neuter-female warrior of the Swarm, her rank as a mid-level officer was almost as high as she could expect to rise. Above her in line of command was the Ship-navigator, then Ship-first-daughter, and then Ship-mother. Another few turns, and she may make Nav, either here or on another ship. But for now, it was enough to be the entire Flight’s chosen Jump-controller.
She began to recite the Mantra of Jump. “We Jump through the Worm-Holes of Galeta, our Act holy into itself. We praise the One-Mother, Galeta, by using Her Ways to cross the Great Dark of Space. We celebrate the Mystery of Physics. We advance Her Swarm and propagate it across the Heavens. The Worm-holes test our worthiness as daughters of Galeta. Worthy daughters travel the cosmos. Unworthy daughters are swept beyond the veil into the Singularity and are Unmade. Galeta, we commit the practical Act of Adulation, Emergence, that we may worship you and your Holy Universe. In the Worm-hole we pass in Holy Sacrament the Face of the Ultimate Mother, Galeta.”
She snapped her attention back to the screen. One light was flickering to a sickly warning green. Adjusting a dial and tapping a few buttons on her console, she barked into the microphone. The flickering light answered in the voice of that ship’s jump-controller. Almost immediately the light firmed up its glow back to white. Satisfied, she confirmed the improvement to the voice. This one had already had trouble several times in the link-up. Obviously it had been damaged in the previous engagement. “Great Galeta, Mother of the Universe, hold them together long enough to emerge,” she prayed. Repairs would have to be a priority for that ship once they reentered real-space.
Sitting, she saw the crimson suit of the Ship-Mother watching to see that all her charges were safely meshed in their chairs. Ship-mother Malen would be the last to strap in. Blaming the emergence-stress, she indiscreetly watched the Ship-mother out of the corner of her eye. To look directly at the Ship-mother would show extreme disrespect and court discipline. So she surreptitiously kept her helmet lowered as she watched knowing most of the bridge crew were doing the same. She knew, Malen was especially proud of the ship’s new position in the Flight. They were the Flight-mother’s own ship now. They had been ever since the debacle out in the spiral arm. The Flight-mother they’d started their journey with was gone, along with her Ship and the small group of Drones sent to accompany the expedition.
Flight-mother Bruel had made an error in judgment as they Emerged from a Jump. Thinking the Flight adequately screened by the fluorescing gases of a nebula in that spiral arm, only a cursory scattering of scout ships were dispatched. She had done that to save time. The next Jump would occur quicker if they had to pick up fewer scout craft. A smart maneuver in not-so-risky space, she mused . . . normally.
But The Enemy had used the nebula to screen its own fleet. The ambush was a complete surprise. Bruel’s dishonor was washed in the life-fluids of more than four-eights of ships. Luckily, linkage had been almost complete when they were attacked; and, though many of those ships lost went to buy time for the Flight to Jump, it had been accomplished swiftly. Great Khree was gathered by those fallen comrades, she thought with pride.
Flight-mother Fayon assumed command after Bruel had embraced the Great Mother. Fayon was a fierce fighter and a cunning leader. So fierce was Fayon that her original ship was now one of those charred hulks, spinning dizzily around a nameless sun somewhere inside the nebula’s gas clouds. The Flight-mother had only just managed to transfer to this ship when the Jump occurred. Fayon immediately took the ship as the new flagship. In spite of being out numbered and surrounded, the Flight-mother had gotten the Flight out of the trap. Malen, as Ship-mother of this ship, would be especially cautious with her new charge.
The cost had been high on that one. The final loss-count was four-eight’s and two of ships. All those ships of the Fleet were now just sparkling debris drifting past a red sun in her memory. How many officers had she known among those ships? Many faces would not be at the next Gathering. When the Hive had a Gathering, the Fleet’s Officers had the opportunity to meet to share their stories of Khree and to socialize during the Ritual Dance. She keened to herself softly for the lost friends she would never see again. Perhaps in the next life, they would again be arkuren, comrades-in-arms, if Galeta allowed.
The bark of an order broke her reverie. The Ship-mother was berating one of the bridge crew for not looking alert enough at its station. Khree be damned, she wasn’t always sure she liked being on the Flight-mother’s Ship. Every standard routine had become overdone and shortcuts were no longer tolerated. Everything was by the book, and after all these years, the crew had had to go and find the book again. All this “hive-cleaning” was making the crew more quarrelsome. She hoped the coming assault would give them a break as all the senior mothers in the Flight turned their attention to the ground forces. Again, she checked the screens, and listened to the count-down to Emergence. The time to Emergence was getting close. “Holy Galeta, we are worthy to Emerge.” She recited the phrase over and over. It never hurt to say one of the Forms a few extra times.
Her train of thought drifted again. The Flight had Jumped three times quickly after the ambush. Twice they’d Jumped backspin and core-wards, away from their destination. This last had been a long Jump, dangerous, but hopefully successful at losing the Enemy. It was a strain on the ships to be in the sacred Worm-hole so long, but her Flight was kept in the best of repair at all times. The Engineers and Techs were renowned for their worship of Galeta with their near-perfect machines. Even so, she felt the tension of Emergence in an unknown sector intensely. Would the Enemy have guessed their destination and beaten them here? Or would they stumble on an Enemy outpost watching for just such Emergence-ripples as they were about to make? They would make several hundred ripples, detectable for light-cycles with good equipment. She reasoned that they were probably far enough from the Enemy’s traveled paths to only show as an anomaly, and that only if they were watching. But, “The Enemy is always watching”. That was another motto in the Flight.
The voice droned on,”…28, 27. . .” Ship-Mother Malen sat and began to mesh in. She imagined being in the Ship-Mother’s seat. She had ambitions, if she lived long enough. War had a way of promoting rapidly, and she had already exemplified herself. She had been raised to a Junior-mother’s rank two expeditions back, after the thrust of the Medion Campaign had emptied so many seats. New clones were always made in the vats to fill the seats of missing bodies or to fill whole new ships; but the experience necessary to be a mother, an officer, could not be made in the vats by the Drones. It had to be learned and earned. Life was short in the Flight for most. A bit of skill at her position, and the luck of the Flight-mother choosing her ship had thrust her forward yet again. Now she could almost taste a ship of her own to mother. If she persevered and Galeta’s Luck and Khree be with her, she just might make it before she was called into the dark.
The time for Emergence was near now. The droning voice recited,”. . . 18, 17, 16 . . . ” Yes, it thought. Very near. It would be nice to be back in real-space.
She turned her bubble eyes nervously towards the vid screen. It showed only the swirling confusion of the inside of Galeta’s holy Worm-hole. No one enjoyed either the Acts of Insertion or Emergence during a Jump. Real-space abhorred Worm-space and their own matter always seemed to rebel during the transitions. Not that being in the Worm-hole was particularly pleasant either. It left one… hard to describe, but jittery. They’d scanned the space they were to emerge in, but only from five-eights of light years away. Small things like planetoids tended to be invisible from that distance. Even in cautious travel with Jumps under eight light years, things were missed sometimes. “The odds are with the jumper”, she reminded herself. “Space is large and the Jumper small”. There was lots of room for the whole Flight and several good sized planets in the emergence zone, but . . . “Entropy happens”. And any losses the Flight might suffer were not just bad for the Swarm. They were bad for those of the Flight who were lost.
She was startled from her daydreams by the renewed flickering of the troublesome light, just as the sequence was finishing, “. . . 3, 2, 1. Emergence.” The sinful vulgarity she exclaimed in sick dismay was lost as holy Emergence turned everything inside out and back again.
Barnard Cullen, author 