Too many people depended on them.

  36

  Gabriel went to the assemblers first, and then traced his path backward to where It’kek had shown him the keepers could be reached. The deepest corridors of the Ishur were faintly lit with the luminescent moss that seemed to hang from everything in the lower decks, and as he walked he began to feel the familiar sting of the legri’shah scent in his nose. It was a difficult feeling to ignore, and he wondered if that was part of the reason so few had ever met the keepers. He also wondered if it might be intentional, a defense to keep others away. The creatures were almost extinct, so rare that they were kept hidden in starships, far from freedom.

  He cringed a little as he realized they had likely killed at least one of the beasts when they had destroyed the Dread fortress, along with the keepers who were raising them. He wished there was another way.

  He rounded a bend in the corridor, reaching the larger common area of the keeper’s community. It was a compact space surrounded by even more compact cells where the keepers slept, near the center of the pens where the legri’shah were kept. He had tried to count the clones’ numbers when he had been through the first time, and had guessed that there were at most twelve of them on board, for two or three of the mature creatures and a growing number of younger ones.

  He had been surprised to learn that the gori’shah the Dread wore were actually colonies of legri’shah larvae, microscopic creatures that fed on a silk-like substance spun by the second phase of the creature’s growth. The entire life-cycle of the legri’shah was too complicated for him to fully grasp, but he appreciated how self-sustaining it was. When he had more time, he wanted nothing more than to learn all he could about them.

  Two of the keepers were sitting on the floor in the common area when he arrived. They looked perpetually tired, and they smelled almost as strongly as the legri’shah themselves.

  “It’kek?” Gabriel said, unable to tell any of the clones apart.

  “He is with legri’shah,” one of them said. “Can I help you, Son of Juliet?”

  He was still surprised that the keepers knew who he was without ever having met him. “I don’t know. I need one of you to come up to the cloning factory. Zoelle is dead.”

  “Yes. We heard your Sergeant Hafizi send a message to the bridge. If she is dead, why do you need us? We do not keep the dead.”

  “It’kek told me he would know if she were the real Juliet, or a clone. I’m pretty sure she’s a clone, but I need to know for certain.”

  “We do not go that high,” the keeper said.

  “I know you don’t usually, but this is very important. Please.”

  The two clones looked at one another. “Did It’kek agree to do this, if you ever asked?”

  Gabriel considered lying. He didn’t. There had been enough deceit already. “No. I never asked.”

  “We are not permitted to be seen by any drumhr. Our form is outlawed among the bek’hai.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. There are no drumhr remaining on the Ishur.”

  “None?”

  “Tea’va was the only one who survived the attack and Gr’el’s betrayal. He’s dead, too.”

  The clones smiled. “Can we both go?”

  Gabriel nodded. “You can all come, if you want.”

  “The others must stay to watch the legri’shah, but we will come now. They will come later. It has been many years since a keeper was able to visit the upper decks of a domo’shah.”

  The two keepers stood and followed Gabriel as he made his way back to the cloning facility once more. Sergeant Hafizi was standing watch over the area when he arrived, and he drew back slightly at the sight of the keepers.

  “Major?” he said, unsure.

  “It’s okay, Sergeant. They’re with me.”

  “Things have changed,” one of the keepers said to the other.

  “Yes. Many things.”

  “How old are you?” Gabriel asked.

  “I am three thousand Earth years old, give or take,” one of them said.

  “I am two-thousand, seven hundred and twelve,” the other said.

  “And you used to be able to roam around the ship?”

  “Yes. Before we were banned, back when the bek’hai left their home world. Back then, even the legri’shah were allowed some measure of freedom. They did not fear their masters then.” He smiled. “It is good to roam once more.”

  “Where is the un’hai, Zoelle?” the other keeper asked.

  “This way,” Hafizi said, leading them into the maturation hall.

  “I smell blood,” one of them said.

  “Too much blood,” the other agreed.

  “She’s there,” Gabriel said, trying to direct them without looking at her.

  The keepers walked over to where Zoelle’s corpse was resting. One of them leaned down and touched her face. Then he stood and looked back at Gabriel.

  Gabriel felt his throat constrict, a sudden fear washing over him that he might say the words he least expected, and least wanted to hear.

  “She is a clone,” the keeper said, allowing him to breathe once more. “It is certain.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said. “Shielle said that clones can’t be made without killing the source.”

  “That was true many years ago. Is it still true? It seems we should have overcome that limitation by now.”

  “Yes, we should have,” the other keeper agreed.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said. “This isn’t my mother.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Can you come with me?”

  “Where now, Son of Juliet?”

  “Please, call me Gabriel. I want you to tell my father she’s a copy. He thinks he saw his wife dead on the floor.”

  “We will tell him, Gabriel. You have given us what freedom you can. We will help you however we can.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said. Then he turned to Hafizi. “Have the bodies taken to storage somewhere. Make sure to keep Zoelle separate from those two. I know the Dread have some kind of recycling system for corpses, but I don’t know where it is in here or how it works.”

  “I will show you,” one of the keepers said.

  “And I will go with you, Gabriel.”

  “Thank you again,” Gabriel said, impressed with their kindness.

  If these keepers were the closest thing to the original bek’hai, what the hell had happened to their race?

  37

  Gabriel knew his father would be in his quarters. Where else could the General go to be left alone, after all?

  He wasn’t surprised when Theodore wouldn’t answer his knocks. The most traumatic thing his father had ever done was leave his mother behind on Earth, even if it had saved thousands of people from death and enslavement. Was that easier than seeing a duplicate of her dead? At least then he was able to hope, and gradually become accustomed to the idea that she couldn’t have survived. To have her come to life again? He would never say he knew how Theodore felt.

  He knew how he felt, just to think for a moment, even a little bit, that she had been his mother.

  He knew how he felt to find a certain closeness to her memory, and then have it taken away by a plasma bolt meant for him.

  He was sure he would have time to fall into his own emotional upset later. But not now. Not when they were trying to prepare for all-out war. Not when every human in the universe was counting on them. He knew he could convince his father of the same thing, especially with the help of the keeper, who said his name was Pil’kek.

  “Come on, Dad,” he said, knocking one more time. “We need to talk about this. I know you’re hurting, but hiding away isn’t going to help anything.”

  He waited. Theodore didn’t answer.

  “Human emotions are intriguing,” Pil’kek said. “We, too, used to feel loss. It seems like so long ago. When creating life becomes as simple as a switch on a machine, it loses its value. It is unfortunate.”

  “It’s turned your kind into monsters,” Gabriel said. “Some of them, anyway.”

  “They used to think the legri’shah were monsters to be destroyed until they realized the value of the lek’shah.” He shook his head. “Then they became resources to control. It should not be that a human holds them in higher esteem than the ones they saved.”

  “No, it shouldn’t.” Gabriel prepared to knock on Theodore’s door again. As much as he respected his father, he didn’t have time or energy to be polite. “Damn it, Dad. You’re making a mockery of her death. You might as well have died fifty years ago if you’re going to give up now.”

  He figured that would bring Theodore out. He was right.

  The door slid open, an angry Theodore in his chair behind it. His eyes were red, his face flushed, his uniform wrinkled, shirt untucked.

  “What the hell do you know about anything, boy?” Theodore shouted. “Mockery? If I had my legs, I’d run you down and beat some damn sense between those ears of yours. I’ve given my whole life for this cause. This war. Everything I got. What the hell does it mean? What the hell is it for? She stayed alive for me. She did everything she could to come back to me. She brought me back to life. Now she’s gone again.”

  The tears welled in his eyes. Gabriel felt guilty for what he had said, but there had been no other choice.

  “She wasn’t Juliet, Dad,” he said. “She wasn’t. A clone. A copy. Sure, she believed she was, but it wasn’t true.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling me that, son. I’ve heard it over and over. You don’t trust her. She ain’t real. You trusted Tea’va, that son of a whore. You believed in him. How’d that work out?”

  Gabriel felt the blow in his gut. He took it in stride. That was his fault, at least in part. But Theodore couldn’t have argued that at the time, they needed the Dread. They would have never made it onto the Ishur without him.

  “I’m not just saying she wasn’t really Mom.” Gabriel looked over at Pil’kek, who seemed uncomfortable with the whole exchange. “Pil’kek is a keeper. He knew Mom personally.”

  Theodore’s eyes swept over to the keeper. He didn’t react at all to the bek’hai’s more reptilian appearance. “You knew Juliet? How?”

  “She visited the keepers, Dahm St. Martin,” Pil’kek said. “She spent time with us when all others were forbidden. She appreciated the legri’shah, as well as our nature, in comparison with the other bek’hai.”

  “Legri’shah?” Theodore said.

  “The source of the Dread armor,” Gabriel said. “Creatures, as big as a dinosaur. Kind of like a dragon. There are a few on board.”

  “And I didn’t know this, why?”

  “I only discovered them recently,” Gabriel said. “Besides, it wasn’t that important. The keepers are peaceful. Their concern are the legri’shah.”

  “What does this all have to do with Juliet?”

  “We knew Juliet St. Martin well, Dahm St. Martin,” Pil’kek said. “She was much loved among all of the keepers. Your son wanted me to come to tell you, and I mean this with all honesty, the clone known as Zoelle was only that. A clone. Not the real Juliet St. Martin. I am sad to say; she died many years ago. The bek’hai cannot finish the cloning process without killing the pur’hai. The source.”

  Theodore froze. He didn’t move at all. Not for a minute or more. Gabriel could tell his mind was going, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to come to some kind of resolution on how he should feel.

  “She knew things,” he said. “Personal things.”

  “It is not recommended for the memories to be stored and transferred during the cloning process, as it makes the clone unstable for their intended use. It is also not impossible.”

  “But… that can’t be. Shielle, she was a clone. She looked like Juliet. She betrayed us.”

  “The keepers listen to all communications sent from above, Dahm St. Martin. It is clear to me that there are some clones of Juliet who are, what is a good word? Enhanced. And some who are not. It is wrong to think that clones are all the same. They are not. Even for the bek’hai, biology is so complex that it cannot be fully controlled.”

  “You’re saying that someone muddied the waters? Made a Juliet that was more like my Juliet?”

  “That is what I believe.”

  Theodore grinned. “She always was good at making people see things her way. You think she convinced one of the other ones not to be such an asshole?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Dahm St. Martin.”

  “How many of the bek’hai want war?” Theodore asked. “How many agreed with the Domo’dahm’s invasion?”

  “Many. Not all.”

  Theodore nodded. “Ah, my darlin’. Heh. The Domo’dahm doesn’t know what he’s done, does he?”

  “Dad?” Gabriel asked.

  “We’re going to win this war, Gabriel,” Theodore said. “Your mother’s already seen to it. We just need to do our part.”

  “Which is?”

  “Stay the course, for now. You said Major Peters had a clone of your mom with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m willing to bet she’s one of the special ones. I’m also willing to bet there are more of them out there. I hope she’s still alive. It’ll make things easier.”

  Gabriel was happy to see his father’s despair shrinking, but he still didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “I’m confused,” he said.

  “Heh. Don’t worry about it, son. I’m gonna be okay, thanks to you, and to you.” He looked at Pil’kek. “I’m not saying it don’t hurt because it does. I never wanted to see my darlin’ like that. But you’re right. She didn’t go through all of this to have me fail on her. I’m gonna get cleaned up, and then I’ll be back on the bridge. We’ve got a lot of work to do. More now, without Zoelle.”

  Gabriel nodded. He was glad his father used the clone’s name, instead of his mother’s.

  “The keepers can help us translate,” Gabriel said.

  “We do have one request,” Pil’kek said.

  “What’s that?” Theodore asked.

  “We must try to save as many of the legri’shah as we can. There are so few remaining.”

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. Pil’kek.”

  “Thank you, Dahm St. Martin.”

  Theodore smiled. “No. Thank you.”

  38

  General Alan Cave stared out of the small window of his quarters on Alpha Settlement, looking up at Station Delta in the distance. The military installation seemed so small from here. So unimportant.

  Little had seemed important in these last few weeks, for him and for many others in the settlements. Not since Theodore St. Martin had taken away their only hope of ever escaping the nightmare they had been trapped in for the last fifty years, leaving them to wonder just how much longer the equipment that sustained them would last. They had always known the answer wasn’t forever, and that they would need to leave Calawan. While they had always hoped it would be to return to their home planet, he had finally gotten many of them to accept that it wasn’t meant to be and that drastic measures would be needed to preserve what was left of humankind.

  It hadn’t been easy to do, either. So many of the council members had been loyal to Theodore at first. Hell, even he had started out loyal to the Old Gator and his delusions. But the years had shown that nothing was going to change. The missions to Earth had only resulted in pilots dying and irreplaceable resources being lost, and the overload of work for their engineers was proof that the temporary facilities they had brought with them would only last for so long.

  He had taken the hard road, the unpopular road. He had even gone so far as to drug the man he had once respected more than anything in order to keep him quiet while the important decisions were made. Doing it had made him sick. Lying about it had made him sicker. He had done it for the good of the many. For the future of their entire species, not because he wanted people to die. Not because he wanted to leave anyone behind.

  Not that any of that mattered now.

  The great General St. Martin had come roaring back to life on the news that the Dread armor wasn’t completely impenetrable. He had used his reputation to break every law the New Earth Alliance had composed, and in one fell swoop had effectively killed every single one of them.

  He had stolen the Magellan.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  That was the truth General Cave was forced to live with. That they had all been forced to live with. He had sensed the change in the spirit of the people immediately after the Magellan had slipped away. He could still feel their resignation, their loss of hope, and their distress every time he made the journey from his quarters to his office. He could see the way they looked at him, their eyes pleading for a miracle he knew he couldn’t produce. They didn’t have the resources to build another ship. They didn’t have another way out.

  He turned from the viewport, picking up his jacket and slipping it on. He straightened himself and then headed out into the community. It had become more important than ever for him to appear to be in control. To stay strong, to look strong, and to act with a confidence he didn’t feel. Sometimes, as he walked across the common area toward the loop, it seemed as though it might be the only thing holding any of them together.

  He said hello to a few people he passed on his way to the station. The laughter of the children was such a stark contrast to the moroseness of the adults. They were young and innocent. They didn’t understand the reality of their future. It was difficult to listen to sometimes, knowing that it was going to end badly for them. It was another thought he had to fight against on a daily basis. Another truth he didn’t want to accept.

  There was a pod waiting at the station when he arrived, and he stepped into it and sat down, finding himself beside Councilwoman Rouse.

  “Angela,” he said, nodding to her.

  “General,” she replied.

  “What’s on the docket for today?” he asked as the pod’s lid sealed and it began to move.